


Who I Am

by Nikkie2010



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Abuse, Amnesia, Brotherhood, Canon characters to be added as story continues, Civil War, Could be somewhat graphic, Experimentation, Friendship, Large story, Major focus on Prowl & Red Alert, Mental Institutions, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Transformers AU, Trauma, Trust Issues, War associated violence, gaining trust, not too graphic, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17895815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkie2010/pseuds/Nikkie2010
Summary: Prowl knew they were different, but he simply couldn’t remember why they were different. If he could find a way to unlock the memories hidden deep within his processor, he might finally know who he was and why he was as he was.Having escaped the Institution with another youngling in tow, Red Alert could only hope they make it to the northern border in one piece. Ever wary of mechs, Red Alert is torn between believing that the strange, young Praxian indeed had no memory of who or what he was or that the mech would turn on him and kill him in his recharge.With the war a few vorns in and with no end in sight, the two start their journey to the border in hopes of freedom...that is if they survive.





	1. Prologue

_It’s my fault._

Tears streamed down his pale face as he stood staring out a window in the cold hospital room. The sun shone brightly through the tinted windows onto his white plating, the day clear and crisp. Inside, the heavy atmosphere made it difficult to vent. His heavy spark ached and his mouth was as dry as the barren wastelands. Around him enforcers, nurses and doctors hustled quietly, whispering, explaining. They ignored him.

He in turn shut them out.

_I never should have left…_

The tiny, cold hand in his, barley strong enough to hold on. The pleading, dimmed golden optics begging him to stay.

_‘Stay….’_

A voice cleared behind him and he blinked, doorwings flicking back and up. He raised a hand and wiped at his wet cheeks. He couldn’t turn around to face the detective.

“Smokescreen, I apologise for intruding, but I need to get your statement.” His voice was strong yet gentle, his field coaxing.

Smokescreen nodded, tilting his helm towards the detective. He could face the empty berth even less than the detective. He drew a deep vent, turning back to the window. “I left him. Alone.”    

He shuttered his optics as fluid burned them. A small frame dwarfed by the large berth and the myriad of pipes and machinery haunted him as he turned his helm away. Guilt gnawed at him like an malevolent cyberat.

The detective didn’t say a word. Smokescreen was thankful for that – the words were stuck in his throat like glue. He should never have left. Primus he should never have left… The tang of antiseptics stung his olfactory. He wiped his hand over his face.

“He wanted me to stay. I thought he’d be safe. He should have been. It’s a fragging _hospital!_ ” His voice cracked on the last word and he bit his lips, doorwings trembling as his emotions whirled and broiled within him like an untamed storm ready to unleash its full fury.

“We are investigating why the alarm was not raised.” The detective’s soft voice held no sway over Smokescreen’s rampant emotions.

“Please, Smokescreen, the longer you delay in your statement the longer we remain here instead of out there looking for Dilinger.” The detective stepped up to stand next to him, his dark plating absorbing the light. “It is vital for us to know everything.”

Smokescreen’s helm dropped forward. “I’ve already told you that I suspect it was his carrier.”

“We have sent a unit out to the address you have given for Nostrum. Your statement now is for the record.” The detective drew out a single, thin datapad. “I am going to both record it and put it in glyphs. I will need you to sign for it. Now please, your statement.”

Smokescreen drew a deep breath. “I was with him last night until visiting time was over. I left at 23h00 joors. He asked me to stay….” His doorwings flattened against his back and his plating tightened. “I told him he would be safe. I told him I would be here first thing in the morning and that he didn’t have to be afraid.” A bark of self-loathing laughter burst his lips. “Guess I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

He pressed his hands over his face, willing the helmache away. Dilinger’s dim optics stared at him. “Before I left, I gave him my Amulet. Told him he could hold it safe for me until the morning. That way he knew I’d be back first thing.” He dropped his hands and folded his arms protectively over his abdomen. The coldness coiled there didn’t warm, but only coiled tighter.

“I got here this morning at 07h00 joors. I start work at 09h00 joors, so I thought it would at least give me a joor and a half with him. When I got here, his berth was empty.” Smokescreen turned and stared into the ward at the bed his younger brother had occupied. It still mocked him with its barren emptiness.

“I freaked out, called the nurses. They didn’t know where he had gone.” He snorted as the coldness turned into angry heat, the first tendrils of the storm unleashing. He balled his fist. _They should have been there to protect him!_ “He was supposed to be _safe_! How could they not fragging know what goes on in their own hospital!?” He hissed. “I trusted you to keep him safe! You left him alone!”

Not one of the medical staff dared look at him. “Don’t you at least have ball bearings to look at me!?” He shouted as he flared his doorwings wide, arching them above his helm as he straightened. “You da– ”

“Smokescreen, that is enough! They will answer, but right now ranting at them will not help find your brother.”

Smokescreen whipped his helm round to glare at the detective. “He’s barely into his younglinghood! He…I warned them of my suspicions and they _still_ didn’t put a guard here or even a fragging nurse!”

“And they will be investigated.” The detective flared his armour and raised his chin, but his voice remained even. “So you informed the staff that your brother wasn’t in his berth, what happened next?”

Smokescreen grit his denta, the tangy bitterness of loss stinging his glossa. If only he had stayed… The storm festered down. He drew another deep vent and turned his back towards the lonely berth. “I was taken to the waiting room, and then you came.” He whispered. “I told you that I was in the middle of a custody dispute to get Dilinger, and that I suspected his carrier had taken him since the court was ruling in my favour.”

“Why would you think his carrier would take him from the hospital, especially seeing as he was injured? A carrier who cared for his creation would not do that.”

Smokescreen laughed, and if there was a hysterical note to it no one commented on it. “Cares…oh as if he _cares…_ He’s delusional. Crazy.” He wiped at the tears streaming once more from his burning optics. “Negligent, abusive. Why don’t you go ask the court, the university what kind of deranged mech he is?”

“We will, but I need to know why you think he’d want him back and that he would be willing to go to such extremes to get him.”

Smokescreen turned back to the berth, shaking his helm slowly. How did you explain a mech like Nostrum? How did you explain that there was something inexplicitly evil in that mech? How did you explain someone who had such….an obsessively queer interest in their youngling yet in the same vent barely recognising him as an individual being? How’d one explain that he’d painstakingly monitor his sparkling’s mental progress yet at the same time forget the basics of feeding him? How could one even begin to explain….

_“Stay…please…”_

The room dimmed as he slumped against the wall. A steadying hand grabbed his arm, stilling him, anchoring him. Smokescreen shuttered his optics and swallowed the thick lump of fear in his throat.

“I just know he’s got him…and it’s not because he cares.”


	2. Where to next?

“Urgh…This is so disgusting.” Red Alert whispered as he crept through the knee-deep, fetid waste. His arms were outstretched, his fingertips barely touching the slimy sides of the round cylindrical pipes as he used them to guide him through the pitch darkness.

“It is foul-smelling.”

Red Alert’s plating prickled at the monotone voice sounding from behind him. He should have known that sound carries in these blasted sewer pipes. He willed the nervous fluttering in his tanks to subside. What a fool he was to have taken this colourless drone with him! Oh he had mistaken him for a regular youngling…well, as regular as younglings in the Institution could be. But no…he had to have taken something barely a little more sentient than the drones cleaning the hallways. He clicked his glossa in irritation at himself. _Stupid! Stupid! Not even a rookie mistake!_ Not for the first time that joor he wished he had not acted on the spur of the moment but had _at least_ considered what he was doing before dragging the mech along.

But he had been desperate to get out of there, so desperate that he had been willing to use the help offered to him in the form of the other youngling – it was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat again.

His pede landed in something squishy and he froze. What little energon was left in his tank rose swiftly to his throat and he gagged, slowing it again. It was too precious to lose. He panted as he lifted his pede and placed it somewhere else. _Freedom. Think of freedom._ He was so close to freedom. He could handle this. _You’re ok Red, you’re ok._

The sloshing water behind him also came to a stop, leaving only the echoing drops of water to reverberate through the tunnels. “Why have we stopped?” That infuriatingly calm voice asked again.

“Because, I stepped in something.” Red Alert quipped through clenched denta. His fingers curled in, the putrid slime coating his palm and he felt like screaming. Primus the first thing he was going to do when he reached his freedom was take a good, long shower!

“Are you injured?”

“Nooooo…” Red Alert flexed his hands and forced his pedes onwards. This was just a little grime…it wasn’t mech fluids, or…or….

“Then we should move.”

Red Alert’s optic twitched. “Of course…. _why_ didn’t I think of that.” He whispered back and stepped forward. If only it wasn’t this dark, or they had some form of light. At least he wasn’t alone. Maybe the mech wasn’t too bad. He had someone at his back…behind him…someone he barely knew…behind him….behind him…behind….

His frame started trembling and his knees buckled. _No, not now. Please…not now…_ He caught himself. He drew deep vents. He couldn’t lose it now. His spark constricted as he dragged air in. _Red don’t…don’t…._ _Oh Primus…there’s…no…no don’t go there…there’s nothing…no, there’s….someone at…my back…at my back….he’s at my back…he’s-at-my-back-he’s-at-my-back…_ Raw memories clawed their way up from the deep recesses of his processor, each terrifying cry amplified as darkness smothered him. _Get away! Get away! Get Away!_ Strength flooded his legs and he sprinted forward, heedless of the fetid water splashing across his frame, of the turborats scurrying away. _Run-run-run-run-run…_ he had to get away. He had to get away. That’s all that mattered! He had to…get away!

He ran through the icy darkness as fast as his legs could take him, oblivious of where he was going as long as they carried him away from _him._

He turned his helm, his sensitive audial horns picking up the sound of pursuing pedesteps and splashing water. Primal fear gripped his spark, crushing it painfully as an invisible hand chocked him. He cried out in fear. _Faster! Run faster!_

He hit a wall, his helm clanging against it as it knocked him back. Even as he shook the dancing speckles away he was back on his pedes, running. Suddenly the ground beneath him disappeared and he screamed.

A hand grabbed his and his burning, trembling frame hit the wall. Water crashed over him. He sobbed, gripping the hand as his spark thudded. His processor cooled, his thoughts blurred as he scraped against the wall, the water pelting his hot frame.

“I do not think this is the right way.”

Red Alert broke into high-pitched laughter as he hung onto the hand. Somehow that stupid, placid voice broke through to his irrational, pounding helm. _I’m ok, not dying, not dying. I’m ok._

“I am pulling you up, try to use the walls to assist me.”

Red Alert nodded. He laughed-sobbed again at the irrationality of nodding. The mech wouldn’t be able to see it… but he didn’t trust himself to say anything.

He dug his pedes into the wall and tried to step up as the Praxian pulled him up and over the edge. Feeling along the wet walls, he found a place to sit. He drew his legs up to him and placed his warm helm on his knees. _Just focus…focus on the here and now…vent one two three four…hold….one two three four….focus on the cool wall, focus on the rushing water. Wait. Rushing water?_ He popped his helm up and turned towards the source of the noise. When had the water started rushing?

“Are you injured?” The disembodied voice drifted from the opposite side.

Red Alert jerked his helm towards the sound. “No.” He croaked.

Silence fell between them. Red Alert drew a few more deep vents, his spark calming. He was alright, he was fine. He pushed his back against the wall. Nothing could sneak up on him as long as his back was covered.  The memories flitted at the edge of his awareness. He had to get away from them. He cleared his vocaliser, hoping the static wouldn’t make his words indecipherable.

“Thanks…for catching me.” He rubbed at his arms, the plating still sensitive.

“You were going the wrong way.”

A spark of irritation ignited. “I know! I wasn’t….” He snapped his mouth shut. He wasn’t about to tell this stranger that he had been running blind, and not because of the lack of visual sight. He frowned. Now that he thought about it…

“How did manage to catch me?” Red Alert sat straight, ignoring the chilly spot left on his back.

The other mech didn’t answer.

“Well?” Red Alert wasn’t letting this one go.

“I am not sure I grasp your meaning?” If not for the miniscule inflection Red Alert might have thought the mech had made a statement.

“It’s pitch dark! How did you manage to catch me? How did you see me?”

Another beat of silence. “I can see perfectly well.”

Red Alert shuttered his optics and pursed his lips as heat rose to his cheeks.

“You are unable to see?”

Red Alert drew a quick vent. “I am perfectly capable of seeing in light, I was, however, unaware that you can see. Why, I beg of you, didn’t you tell me?” He asked sweetly, but unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

“You did not enquire.”

“Oh. Right then. I’ll remember to _ask_ you next time.” Red Alert quipped. “Now, h _ow_ do you see? You’re not wearing a visor.” Nothing of this mech was making sense – maybe he really was a drone with an added sparksignature to confuse mechs….maybe he was a spy…or a tracker! Red Alert pushed back against the wall again. And worse – he now knew the mech could see perfectly in the dark while he himself was left defenceless!

“I have doorwings.”

 _Of....course_. _Doorwings. High density of sensors and highly sensitive. Capable of forming pictures through echo-location in almost all circumstances except those of high electromagnetism._ He shuttered his optics, muttering under his breath at his own stupidity. How could he forget something as simple as that? He rubbed a hand tiredly over his face and froze. “Euw …” He grimaced as the smelly, sticky slime clung to his cheeks. He whimpered. He wanted _out_ of these tunnels.

“I will lead. You were heading south. Is that the route you have chosen?”

Red Alert shrugged. Truth was he had no idea where to go after they exited the facility. He knew where to exit the Institution and how to exit, had timed that smeltering pit time and time again. He knew he had had one shot at getting out and he had taken it and beaten the odds…that he had a tagalong was a little unexpected…but he was out. But where to next? That was the million shanix question. He vented heavily. “It doesn’t really matter where we go from here, as long as it’s as far away from the institution as we can get, and out of these tunnels.”

“We must head north.”

Red Alert frowned. The mech sounded like het was very sure of it. Suspicion curled at his tanks. Was this mech leading them back? What was his motive? He folded his arms over his chassis protectively. He didn’t trust this mech. A flashback of him falling stalled him. The mech didn’t have to save him, and yet he had. Perhaps, perhaps just this _once_ he’d allow himself to follow blindly. At least if he followed there was no one at his back. Processor made up, he nodded. “Alright. Why north?”

Two beats passed.

“The mech who opened the vault said to head north.”

 _No way!_ Red Alert shook his helm vigorously, lips pressed firmly. Did this mech think he was a total moron?! “Oh that’s nice! We’ll just follow the instructions given by some random mech working at the Institution who just happens to have the codes of the Vault. Brilliant!” He waved his hand in the air. “We can’t follow some random mech’s words to go north! For all we know he might have laid a trap for us! He might simply be waiting to catch us and return us to the Institution! Maybe they are using us as test subjects to check the defence network surrounding the Institution!” His vents stalled at the thought. _Primus, what if they are already tracking us?_

“No. They are not following, but we cannot stay here.”

Red Alert grabbed his horns, squeezing his optics shut. Why had he ever thought he could escape? It was impossible! Freedom was nothing but an illusion!

“We must leave now.”

Red Alert’s optics snapped open as he heard the other mech stand. His field was abnormally calm. The mech wasn’t concerned. Slowly he released the grip on his horns, his spark still spinning rapidly. He had to get a grip on his frayed emotions. He had to think logically if he was going to survive. He tilted his helm towards the Praxian. “What if they’re waiting?”

“If it is a trap, we will fight our way out. If it is not a trap, there is freedom. Let us continue.”

Red Alert stood, legs wobbling as he followed the sounds of splashing water. “How can you be so calm?”

The mech continued walking in what Red Alert assumed to be north.

“Calm?”

“Well, yes? Your field is incredibly stable and it’s not like we are in the best of situations.” And that made him all the more suspicious. _No_ mech could be this calm after having escaped that Pit.

“Calm.” The mech repeated thoughtfully.

Red Alert had the distinct impression that he wasn’t being paid any attention to. His impression was confirmed as the mech never bothered with an answer. He let it slide. He didn’t have the energy to insist on an answer.

They continued trudging through the sewers, water dripping on them and objects bumping into them that Red Alert didn’t want to think about. Joors stretched on until finally, Red Alert picked up a soft, fresh breeze.

“We are approaching an open source.”

Red Alert quickened his pace, the water current starting to flow faster and faster. He smiled as he first started making out shadows, then the form of the Praxian before him, and finally he started distinguishing colours. He laughed as he saw the first few rays of the planet’s moons filter through a gated entrance.

“We made it!” He whispered happily as he pushed past the Praxian. He grabbed the rusty grater and pressed his helm against it. This was all that stood between him and the freedom he so desperately craved.

The Praxian knelt beside him, his grey frame covered in streaks of black and brown, but the golden optics sharp and keen as they scanned. His face remained impassive. “There is no one.”

Red Alert grinned as he ran his own scan. They were alone indeed. Fantastic! He studied the grate. “We need some way to open this. By the looks of it, it’s rusted through. We should be able to break it with enough force.”

The Praxian continued examining the exterior.

Red Alert’s grin faltered as he shook his helm. Stupid Praxian. He yanked at the bars, gritting his denta as condensation gathered on his helm.

Another pair of hands grabbed the bars. “We must combine our strength.”

Red Alert huffed. “No slag.” He shook his helm as he adjusted his hold on the bars. “On the count of three…one…two…THREE!”

The two mechs yanked and with a painful shriek the bars broke free from their rivets. The force sent the two mechs flailing back and into the rushing water.

“We did it!” Red Alert laughed as he pushed up, using the walls for grip as he headed to their freedom. He drew in deep vents of fresh air, grinning up at the boundless stars. When was the last time he had seen them? He laughed again. “Primus I’m glad we’re not prowling those fetid tunnels any more!”

“Prowling?” The Praxian turned to him, his doorwings set neutrally as he followed Red Alert out of the pipe.

Red Alert cocked an optic ridge at him. “Yes, prowl, as in wandering stealthily in the dark in search of something, in our case, searching for our freedom.” He gave the Praxian a once over. For all the mech didn’t look stupid, he certainly wasn’t very bright.  He stopped and planted his hands on his hips as he thoroughly enjoyed the first tendrils of his freedom.

The fresh breeze caressed their plating as millions of stars glittered in the night sky. In the distance a few lights burned – a sure sign of a small town where they would hopefully be able to get some fuel. He dropped his gaze to the water running out of the sewer. It led to a small water pond where Red Alert could make out the forms of some mechanimals. He bit his lip. At least none of the shadows were in the form of insecticons.

He turned to his sort-of companion. Now what to do with him. As much as he loathed companionship, the journey forward might be a little easier if he had company. But one false move on this mechs part….might be too late for him though, although he was in no way defenceless. He was a reasonable fighter, and an even better shot. Problem came in he didn’t have a blaster.

He made a mental note to get one. Soon.

“So…” He started as he crossed his arms defensively. “There’s a town over there. It lies…” He checked the sky… “to the north. The way we are heading. We can go there together, perhaps get some fuel than split paths. Deal?”

The mech turned golden, calculating optics on him and Red Alert fought the irrational urge to shuffle his pedes. He lifted his chin and optic ridges. “Well?”

“Agreed.” The mech turned once more to the sight before him. “We must head north.”

Red Alert studied him. The mech was completely absorbed in his surroundings. _It’s as if he’s never seen_ …. _Oh…._ He worked his lower lip as his plating clamped. He’d probably never seen the outside before. That made him…dangerous.

This mech was probably made in the Institution. “First time out?” Red Alert whispered. What if this mech decided he didn’t like it here? What if he wanted to go back? What if he used Red Alert as a bargaining chip? A small keen escaped his vocaliser as he curled in on himself. _He_ was the stupid one!

The Praxian turned towards him. “I do not know.”

Red Alert’s processor came to a grinding halt. “What?”

“I do not know.”

The breeze continued to dance over their plating as night chirps sang around them. Red Alert scratched his plating. Maybe he had burned a chip out in his processor or something? How could you not know whether you’ve seen outside or not? It’s not like there’s no difference. He cleared his vocaliser. “What…what do you mean that you don’t know? How could you not know?”

“There is nothing there.”

Red Alert canted his helm, face pulled up in confusion. Nothing there? No memories or no recollection? “Are you a drone?”

The mech swung his helm towards him.

Red Alert raised his hands placatingly. “Apologies, that was very rude. It’s just…how can there be nothing? What about your memories? I mean, you are what a youngling, or a young full-frame? You have to have _something_ there.”

The doorwings moved up and down minutely. “There is the mech who told me to head north, then there is you.”

“Ok.” Red Alert nodded, mouth slack and ridges squishing together. Well this was…different. He scratched his chin. “Well, um, let’s uh begin then with your designation. I’m…or rather you go first.” He didn’t want this mech having his designation before he didn’t get one. He was already taking the lead in this dance and he didn’t like it. He was a loner. He didn’t do dancing.

He was met with another blank stare that stretched into breams. The mech shook his helm.

“Seriously?” Red Alert’s hands dropped to his side as he stared at the mech. The doorwings hitched higher.

“There is…nothing. I do not….”

For the first time the Praxian’s tone waivered and his armour pulled tight.

 _Not a drone, then. They can’t do that._ “Ok, hang on, might be that you had some…” Red Alert waved his hand around in the air, desperately thinking of what the mech might have had. “Got it! You bumped your helm and scrambled your processor! You’re bound to remember after a good uh, defrag!”

“There is nothing.” The mech repeated, his tone hard.

 “Uh,” Red Alert pulled his shoulders up, optics wide. Primus, how the pit did he deal with this? Was it even his issue to deal with? “Well, um, then let’s, uh, choose something for now, and later when you remember we can change it back. No big deal, I mean, uh, what’s in a designation anyway?”

The mech stared at him. And stared.

“You want _me_ to choose you something?” Red Alert’s mouth slacked as he pointed at himself. He wasn’t prepared to choose some random mech’s designation! It wasn’t his problem.

The mech’s helm tilted. “Yes.”

Red Alert rocked back. “Well, uhm, ok then.” He blinked a couple of times and pursed his lips. The audacity of this mech! What was he? This mech’s creator or something! “Let’s call you… Prowl. Yes, Prowl for now as you are basically still stuck in a dark tunnel in search of something, in this case, your designation.” He ended off with a nod as he folded his arms over his chassis.

“Prowl.” The mech turned his gaze back towards the distant town. “For now, Prowl is adequate.”  

“Ok good.” Red Alert’s helm bobbed. This was one pit of an odd mech. “My designation is Red Alert.”

The mech, newly dubbed ‘Prowl’ stepped out. “Red Alert. Let us head north. We are wasting time.”

Red Alert vented in exasperation. Seems like they were taking turns leading the dance. He pursed his lips and threw out his hip.  “Well, we can head north as long as we head north through that pond. I want this gunk off of me!”

Prowl stopped and turned to look at him. “Gunk?”

Red Alert drew a longsuffering vent as he headed to the pond. He indicated his frame. “Yes, Prowl, _gunk_. This horrible, stinky, slimy goo that is stuck to our frames and make us look like swamp monsters straight from the acid wastes!”

“Gunk.” The Praxian repeated as he followed Red Alert.

Red Alert grit his denta. Hopefully the town wasn’t too far away. This mech was too odd, too different. His lips pulled down in a frown as he rolled his shoulders. Prowl couldn’t be trusted. There was something about him that didn’t make any sense. How could a mech not remember his own designation? Or even more concerning, if he had supposedly lost his memories or had ‘nothing’ up there, how the pit was he even able to walk or talk or do anything? Red Alert narrowed his optics.

There was something not right with this one.

He cast a worried look over his shoulder at the mech following him.

He needed to figure him out.

 

* * *

 

The guard trembled as he took out his access card. It slipped through his trembling fingers and fell on the floor. He drew a deep vent, picked it up and swiped. The light blinked green and the locks disengaged.

He stood at attention, the pungent odour of chemicals nauseating. At the table a scarlet mech stood working, carefully inserting a formula into his terminal. Large doorwings arched over a solid, sleek frame. The mech turned keen crimson optics on the guard and with a voice as silky and smooth as his paint job, enquired. “Well? Where is he?”

The guard opened his trembling lips. “There are no sign of them.” He swallowed.

“NOOOOO!” The furious roar was echoed by the shrill screech of a table flipping, it’s contents spilling and crashing onto the barren, sterile floor. A cleaning drone came racing over.

“How dare you come back and tell me he is gone!” The pitch black mech ambled towards the guard, finger outstretched and optics blazing.

The guard shrank back on himself. “We are going through sur-”

A hand descended on his throat and clamped tight.

The guard chocked, optics bulging as he scratched at the wiry hand crushing the life out of him. Smoldering crimson optics filled his vision.

“I have invested millions into this project! He is a vital part of that weapon! Get. Him. Back!”

He shoved hard, the guard falling on his back as he gasped and spluttered.

“Use whatever you have to.” Nostrum turned towards the back of the room where two other pods lay. His lip curled. How dare they take him! His prized invention! After all the vorns of planning and manipulation to get the perfect combination to complete his prized weapon – someone had stolen him.

His fist balled and red tinged his vision. He yelled as he kicked the table. It flew across the floor, scraping and screatching. Panting hard, he glared at the shattered screen of his blank terminal.

A throaty growl built up from deep within him.

Whoever took him will suffer a fate worse than death. He’d make sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the inspiration strikes and I've had a few more hours...here's chapter two. :) 
> 
> Thanks to all those who commented...I'll answer in due course!


	3. Sparkling Steps

Emptiness.

Prowl blinked and looked at the red and white mech walking few paces in front of him, bathed in the silvery light of the moon. He canted his helm as he observed the mech. His walk was different than in the tunnels. He set his processor to determine the differences and what that could mean.

He blinked again as he continued observing. Perhaps it was because the ‘gunk’ had been washed off and the mech was now lighter.

_Illogical. The gunk was not as substantial. Most likely scenario was rel..r..r…_

His processor pinged sharply, then blanked. He kept walking.

Emptiness.

He drew a deep vent and released it slowly. There was something wrong. Something missing.

His processor latched onto that thought, chasing it through the myriad of … nothingness.

He blinked again. There was something wrong.

_Calm._

That’s what he was. Calm.

 

* * *

 

Red Alert tossed a look over his shoulder at Prowl. His dull, grey frame had not improved even after a thorough wash in the pond, and there had not so much as a single change of expression graced his stony face. There was something wrong with this mech.

His tank growled and he folded his arms over his abdomen as he continued trudging along the shadowed path that led to the town. When was the last time he had fuelled? Probably at the institution. He wouldn’t mind a fresh, warm cube of energon…or maybe rust sticks! His tank ached dully, and he cut that processor thread. He’d be lucky if he was able to find anything decent to eat in a garbage dump. It wouldn’t be safe. His thoughts drifted involuntarily to Prowl.

As soon as they were in the town, they could scavenge for some energon and they’d part ways. Simple as that. They weren’t too far away anymore. Probably another half joor or joor at the most. He glanced to the side where the first rays of Cybertron’s sun was rising. It would be another four or five joors for the other to rise, depending on the season. It would give them some cover, but not a lot.

Speaking of the season…Red Alert looked around him. It wasn’t winter, but there was a chill in the air. Perhaps they were approaching winter…or maybe heading out of it? He shook his helm. He’d figure out the time and date soon enough. Or perhaps…no. He doubted Prowl would know. The mech was clueless. _Never assume…_ He paused, then rolled his optics at his own little annoying voice echoing from the back of his helm. He blew out his vents and cleared his vocaliser. He wouldn’t lose anything by asking.

“So do you know what season it is?” he asked in hushed tones, looking around to see if the shadows jumped or morphed. They remained still and he relaxed slightly. So far it looks like they made a clean break.

“…Season?”

Red Alert sighed and rolled his optics. _Yes, absolutely clueless._

“Oh come on, really now? You don’t know anything do you.” He clicked his glossa and shook his helm. He wasn’t going to teach this incompetent AI anything.

_It’s not his fault. He didn’t ask for this._

“Shut up.” He murmured under his vents. He didn’t have to take responsibility for this mech. It wasn’t his job and he certainly didn’t want to make it his. His lips pressed together in a slight grimace, his optics ping-ponging among the fading shadows. He swallowed.

 _Not going to look out for another mech again. They only die. They’re too stupid._ He hugged himself tighter. His sensitive audial horns picked up the sound of the other’s light pedefalls on the gravelly path. _Not his fault…not taking responsibility…he needs help…he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know who he is….exactly why he needs your help._

Red Alert gripped his arms until they hurt. He drew a deep vent. That stupid little voice wasn’t going to shut up until he satisfied it. “Seasons are changes in our planet’s weather. It causes warm or cold times.” _There! That’s enough!_

Prowl didn’t answer and Red Alert silently thanked Primus for that. He wasn’t in the mood to answer anymore stupid questions.

They continued in silence until they reached the outskirts of the small town. Or rather village. Face scrunched up in distaste, Red Alert studied the delipidated buildings huddling closely together as the first, orange rays hit the weather-worn roofs. He squinted, barely making out frames backlighted as they moved past dimly-lit windows. He canted his helm and drummed his fingers. Why weren’t there mechs on the streets already? He crouched deeper behind the small rocky outcrop.

Prowl’s calm field settled next to him, his silvery doorwings splayed and his impassive, golden optics keenly analysing. At least he too had the common sense to use the rocks to hide them.

“This town will not hold much of value to us.”

Red Alert jerked his helm at the Praxian, his optic ridges arched high over his slate-grey optics. “Well, didn’t really expect that coming from you.” He quipped before he clamped down on his mouth. One of these orns his mouth was going to get him into serious trouble. He leaned away from the grey mech, field pulled in tight.

Prowl looked at him, blinked and turned his helm back to stare at the village. “It is quiet.”

His ridges still knit together, Red Alert turned back to the town. He licked his lips. “It is quiet.” He agreed. His sensory net prickled as he watched the town. They should leave…

His tank gurgled and he huddled in on himself, hoping the other mech hadn’t heard. He licked his lips. He should leave, but he needed energon. There had to be a dump spot here somewhere where they could scavenge. Even just a drop would be enough…he just needed something. He rubbed a shaky hand over his face. Perhaps they could hunt? It wouldn’t be the first time he ate natural, raw fuel. It was just difficult to catch the little turborats – not to mention the little vermin put up one Pit of a fight. His nostrils flared.

“We need fuel.” He whispered through clenched denta. His hand gripped the cold rocks until his knuckles whitened.

“Agreed.” Prowl’s posture remained stiff next to him, his field calm and steady.

“We should look for a dumpsite. There might be fuel thrown out.” _Not likely._ The irritating little voice quipped. Red Alert balled his fists. He wasn’t going to give up.

“The probability of finding a fuel source is less than five percent.”

Red Alert stilled. This mech…He blinked slowly as his olfactory scrunched up. He opened his mouth, hesitating, “How…how is it that you don’t know what the frag a season is, but you can use such articulate language to explain our situation?” He canted his helm.

Prowl didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge that he had heard. Red alert nearly gave up on receiving an answer to a very sensible question when Prowl answered: “I do not know other than I know.”

Red Alert shot him an unimpressed look. “That’s not really very explanatory.” He blew hot air out of his vents. “But you know what, I don’t really care.” _I’m not getting involved. There is something not right with you and I don’t want to know what it is._ “Do what you want. I’m going to look for fuel.” He stood and stepped around the kneeling Praxian.

A few steps towards the village he heard the other mech follow. His spark sped up and he braced himself, but instead of the harsh impact his frame expected, Prowl matched his speed. After a few moments his plating relaxed and he vented easier. _Easy, he hasn’t done anything…yet._ He kept at least two sensors on the mech as they skirted the perimeter of the village.

Prowl turned towards him and Red Alert froze.

“What is articulate?”

Red Alert swore.

 

* * *

 

The suns sat high in the sky as Red Alert cradled the cube of energon in his hands, soaking in the warmth he had not felt in vorns. The small, mercury brook bubbled over pebbles, it’s sound soothing as it mingled with the native avions. His gaze absently fell on Prowl as the mech sat on the opposite side of the brook.

The mech had been right – they hadn’t found any energon anywhere and had reverted to stealing. Red Alert wasn’t new to stealing. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t against stealing if his survival depended on it. He took a sip of the warm energon and savoured the feeling of the thick, syrupy brew sliding down his intake and settling snuggly in his tank.

They had never gotten this type at the institution. The disgusting, bland stuff they had the gal to call fuel didn’t even hold a flashlight to this divine brew! He tipped the cube to take a last sip, then sealed it before slipping it into his subspace, where another cube was securely tucked away. He didn’t know how far he’d have to go before he found more. He focused on his soon-to-be ex-partner in crime.

Prowl flared his doorwings, the individual feathery plates splaying briefly before settling together so tightly it would be difficult to distinguish from the whole. His unopened cube rested on his knee. His helm was moving from side to side in small, jerky movement. The mech appeared to be enthralled by everything surrounding him.

“You wish to leave?”

Red Alert jerked in surprise, his vents freezing for split-second before he forced his frame to relax. He forced a stiff smile to his lips. He hadn’t thought Prowl was aware of him. Obviously the mech was in tune with his surroundings: he wouldn’t repeat that mistake. Shadows dimmed the ground and Red Alert glanced up to see a fat, grey cloud obscure the light of their binary suns. He pursed his lips. He still didn’t know what season it was but he’d figure it when he was on his merry way. He drew a vent.

“Yes. This is where we go our separate ways.” He swallowed. This was for the best. He didn’t know who or what this mech was – the mech didn’t even know that himself. Who knew what he was capable of? Or even why he was at the institution. He wiped the condensation of his forehelm and pointed towards the north. “According to your unknown mech, you should head that way.”

Prowl turned in the direction he had pointed, but didn’t move.

Red Alert got up, wiping the dirt from his frame. His lips tightened as Prowl followed suite, but didn’t say anything. They stood staring at each other. Red Alert scratched his audial horn as he glanced to the side. This was more awkward than he had thought it would be, although honestly he had thought to lose Prowl in the small village where he could become another mech’s problem.

He had enough riding on his back from escaping the institution. No doubt there were mechs already on their trail, no doubt they would hear about the stolen energon. His throat tightened and he shuddered. Pit, they had probably lessened their escape gap by considerable means sitting here in the suns. What had he been thinking?! He should leave. Now. Head somewhere else. Not north. The other mech said to go north.

He squeezed his optics shut as pain bloomed in his processor. _Not now, not now! Don’t loose it now! Breathe. Just..try to breathe!_ He opened his optics and stared straight into calm, golden optics. They became a focus point. He licked his dry lips and drew deep, even vents.

“I’m leaving. Go that way.” He ignored the static in his voice and marched off, not looking back once. Prowl would be ok. He could run probabilities and didn’t need any other information. He needed to look after himself, just like Red Alert needed to look after himself.

Processor set, he marched west.

Joors later, the smallest of the sons dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows through the forested path. Ignoring his aching pedes, Red Alert plodded on. The more distance he placed between himself and the institution, the better.

Leaves rustled to his side and he jumped, staring wide opticed.

Nothing happened.

He swallowed his spark that had somehow gotten stuck in his throat.

The wind brushed over his flared plating, its gusty spurts pushing at him. “It’s just the wind. Stop it.” He held out his shaking hands, willing them to still. He balled his fists and pushed them against his mouth, optics squeezed tight.

He had to learn to get a grip. He had to control his glitch. He wasn’t going to become what they tried to make him. He wouldn’t! He didn’t know how long he stood there before he finally found the strength to move his leaden pedes.

Step by step, vent by vent, he would beat this.

The wind howled as it picked up pace. Red Alert huddled in on himself as the coldness sliced through to his protoform. He would need to find shelter for the evening. Cold wasn’t something he appreciated.

His thoughts floated back to Prowl. _I wonder if he’d find shelter?_ He snorted. _The mech probably doesn’t even know what it means._ He bit down on his lip, unease wiggling itself into his spark like a small little worm. _Well, what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t bring him along._

The icy wind howled through the trees. _Not my fault he’s as half-witted as a newspark._

_And yet you’d never leave a newspark._

_I would if I had to._ Red Alert ducked his helm as a particularly strung gust blew past him, the crackling sound of brush and leaves echoing through the forest. He had walked away in the past. He owed no one any shred of loyalty. His conscious could go jump in a smelter! He lifted his chin high.

He’d been – “GAH!”

Strong cords like metal arms wrapped around his frame and pulled tight. He tripped, his helm ricocheting off the hard ground and his vision whitened. Cold fingers raked through his frame like demons as his audials picked up the heavy thud of pedesteps approaching.

“No! Nonononononono.” He writhed against the cords wrapped around him, inching away from the steps. The more he fought the tighter they pulled. _No!_ “I’m not going back!” They were here for him! They’d found him. His spark thundered and his vents heaved. _I’m not going back!_

Strong arms grabbed him and flipped him onto his back. Pain seared through his helm. A strong, purple hand gripped his throat and squeezed. A deceptively slim frame leaned down, so close that Red Alert felt the hot vents over his chest as he blearily stared into smelter-red optics. “Don’t you fragging move!” His hands were drawn together and cuffed. Red Alert cried out as volts arced up his arms; they spasmed painfully against the cords. He grit his denta, his cheeks hot from the tears running down them. “Pl…please…”

His horns sparked and his vision tunnelled. They were going to take him back…He shook his helm, and froze as lashes of pain seared through his neural net.

“Any sign of the other one?”

“No.”

“He can’t be far.”

“We’d be-”

The mechs sentence was cut off with an energon-curling shriek.

All Pit broke lose as the lanky frame above him shoved off, drawing a blaster. Red alert rolled his helm to the side, his vision blurry from tears. He tried but failed to focus on the frantic activity.

He whimpered as pain-filled screeches, discharging blasters, snapping struts and dropping frames filled the air.

Everything went deathly quiet.

Red Alert heaved, unable to stop his frame from convulsing. He couldn’t see past the blurriness and pain shrouding his vision. What was going on? Soft pedes approached.

Hands grabbed his shoulder and he screamed, rolling away. “No! No! N-” His coughs interrupted him as he hunched in on his sides, the pain in his arms arching through him as half-processed energon dribbled from his mouth.

The cords relaxed and his hands were grabbed. The currents of electricity ceased and Red Alert drew his arms tight against his chest, curling in on himself. His optics continued to burn as his helm pounded.

But he could move. His spark thrummed. He could run. He could _run._ “I’m not going back!” He pushed off the ground, launching himself away.

Strong arms grabbed him and pulled him back, holding him tightly. “No!” Red Alert bucked, writhed, kicked, but it was like fighting against a metal wall.

“Red Alert.”

Something registered. He tried to turn his helm, tried to push at the arms holding him. _Get away! Get Away!_

“Red Alert.”

He paused. That voice!

“Prowl?” He croaked. It couldn’t be…yet…he ran a scan. That same abnormally placid field greeted him. His struggles stopped and he wilted. His vents came loud and harsh. His helm felt heavy and hot. He let it sag, unable to keep it up. “Prowl.” He chocked as fear morphed into relief which bubbled over into loud sobs. The arms kept holding his shaking frame.

“You are injured.”

Red Alert shook his helm, then stopped as lancing pain struck. He whimpered as he became aware of his helm pounding in rhythm to his spinning spark.

“I am going to release you. Do not run.”

Suddenly his support was gone and he slumped forward. He braced his hands on his kneeling knees. His vision was shrouded in dark colours.

Red Alert swallowed as he tried to focus. His vision remained blurry. Panic welled again, threatening to drown him. _Can’t see-need-to-see-can’t-see-need-to-see._ He raised a hand to his optics. They were wet. He wiped at the wetness. Through burning, hazy optics he stared at the energon staining his red hands. _Is that…is that…mine?_

A cloth appeared in his coated hand and on reflex he clutched it.

Prowl’s warm hand on his neck tipped him backwards and a cool cloth was pressed against his helm. Red Alert expected Prowl to wipe the energon away, but instead he stayed steadily holding the cloth to the aching point on his helm.

Red Alert scrunched the cloth in his hand. _Use it._ He clumsily maneuvered underneath Prowl’s arm to reach his face and wiped at the energon. Steadily his vision became clearer. He glanced to the side, hoping that if he perhaps focused on something far off, his optics would clear. His gaze landed on a grey clump and his focus sharpened until…

He swallowed at the nausea clawing its way up his intakes. He shuttered his optics and drew in deep vents. _It’s not what you think. You’re…you’re still panicking. It’s just a rock or something._ His optics must be fritzing. He opened them again and looked at the lump. He whimpered as his processor interpreted what his optics were seeing.

A severely mangled, decapitated helm lay a few metres from him. Energon trails ran from darkened optics that stared straight at him…

He grit his denta and shuttered his optics. He felt Prowl’s hand adjust on his neck. His plating crawled and his helm felt light. Had it been…had it been _Prowl_ who killed them? Was he even capable of killing mechs? His lip trembled. Who else was there?

 “Prowl?” He whispered.

“Yes?”

Oh Primus what did he say? “Did you…?” He licked his lips and swallowed. He shivered as another gust of frigid wind blew over him.

Prowl lifted the cloth, then pressed it back down again.

“You should rest.”

 _No way!_ His processor screamed at him that he couldn’t – this mech holding him – this was a killer! Primus what kind of slagged up experiment was he? He cracked his optics open to look at the decapitated helm again. He gagged, turning to his side as he badly tried to keep the precious energon in his tanks.

Prowl helped him sit up straight, somehow still managing to hold the compress to his helm. _Where did he get it anyway? Unless it came from them?_ He pressed a hand to his mouth, inhaling deeply through his olfactory. The tangy bitterness of half-processed energon filled his mouth and he swallowed desperately.

“You should rest.” Prowl repeated and he felt a small, sharp pain to his neck, then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

Prowl caught Red Alert as he slumped forward, then shifted him to lay on his back. He lifted the compress and examined the wound. It wasn’t large, but it had leaked profusely. It was still dripping, so he pressed on it again.

He watched his slender, white hand, stained dark blue due to the energon he had spilled. He tilted his helm. There was an uncomfortable pressing on his chest. He ran an internal diagnostic scan.

It came back clean. He was uninjured.

He raised the compress and nodded when no new drops of energon formed. He stood and threw the cloth to the side. He had no more need of it. He looked at his hands again.

They needed to be cleaned. He raised his helm and looked towards the lifeless frames. He marched towards one and kneeled next to him. The mech was burley, at least another mech-half taller than Prowl, but had been easy to deactivate due to his larger frame taking more time to manoeuvre. He ran a white finger over the chassis, pausing at the purple face embossed on the mech’s chest. He committed it to memory, labelled as ‘threat’, and pried open the deactivated mech’s subspace. He took out three more cubes of energon, an acid pellet, cartridges, a blaster, two short blades, a medical kit and finally a cloth. He held the cloth, checking that it was clean before methodically wiping his hands first, then going over the energon splashes on his frame.

He subspaced the dead mech’s inventory and repeated the actions with the other three frames. Once he was done, he went and sat next to Red Alert’s limp frame. The wind howled through the trees and Prowl draped his doorwings over his frame. He watched as the second sun slowly sank lower and lower, the forest darkening far quicker thanks to the dense foliage. The now familiar sounds of night greeted him, and he decided that he preferred these sounds over lightcycle sounds. He could hear more sounds; he could analyse them and add to the emptiness.

Throughout the chilly nightcycle, Prowl observed the various mechanimals as they sauntered in and out from between the trees surrounding the path. At one point an oddly shaped creature sauntered towards one of the offline frames. It sniffed, then taken an arm and dragged it off into the forest. Prowl had not bothered to stop it.

He glanced down at Red Alert and held his hand next to his olfactory. Warm air tingled over his hand and he nodded, satisfied that the mech was recharging. He laid a hand on the mechs shoulder. It was ice cold. He felt his own plating. It was warm.

The edges of his lips twitched down.

He thought back to their early morning fuel next to the brook. The suns had been warm on his plating. It was…a brief, sharp pain like the quick strike of a blade struck at the back of his helm. He raised his hand and rubbed at it.

What had caused that? Prowl shuttered his optics and traced his small memory cache to where the pain had interrupted him. It was his analysis of the suns on his plating.

The cold gust of wind chose that moment to buffet them and Prowl put a hand out on the ground to stop him from falling, his doorwing shifting to make way and assist his balance. The cold that seeped in was unpleasant.

Unpleasant…something shifted in his processor like a gear clicking into place.

_Cold: unpleasant. Warm: pleasant._

He blinked. That was what had caused the pain. He recalled the suns on his plating – the warmth was pleasant. His lips straightened into a neutral line.

The emptiness was a little less…he had pleasant and unpleasant. He glanced down at Red Alert and placed his hand once more on the frame.

_Cold. Unpleasant._

Without thinking Prowl shifted and laid down next to the prone mech. He stretched his doorwing to shield them from the unpleasant wind. Now, they will be pleasant.

He shuttered his optics and initiated recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only did a once-over after I'd written it, so any errors are RL's fault. ;) 
> 
> Here's to hoping the scenes played out as clear on paper as it did in my mind. Thank you for all the support and lovely reviews! :)


	4. Chapter 4

_Warmth._

That was the first sensation that drifted through his foggy processor as his optics fluttered open.

He stared at the brightly glowing orange sky, framed by the tall, pointy treetops. Around him avions chirped and a gentle breeze brushed the very tips of the tall pines.

Recharge-hazy optics squinted into thin lines.

_Where am I?_

Optic ridges drew together over slate grey optics and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

_How’d I get here?_

His helm ached dully and for a moment he shuttered his optics, gently floating back to the beckoning arms of recharge and the comfortable, soft warmth over and next to him.

_…Next to me?_

His optis shot open as he jumped up, pushing away from the source with a loud, undignified squeak. He hissed and flared his plating, his delicate sensor net bristling and pulsing red as he glared at the source.

Serene golden optics stared back placidly as the grey helm lay on an equally grey arm.

“You!?” Red Alert spit as he bared his denta, ignoring the frantic little voice at the back of his processor screaming that it was a bad idea to anger Prowl.

Prowl shuttered his optics slowly. He withdrew his doorwing and folded it behind his back. “You are unpleasant.”

“…What?!” Red Alert’s face scrunched up as he leaned forward. “B-..pfft.” He shook his helm and stopped, raising a hand as a helmache bloomed. “Usually when one wakes up unexpectedly it is unpleasant.” He raised a hand and touched his sore helm. “Especially if your helm feels like splitting.”

 _But why…?_ He traced back his lasts thoughts and found them…blank. He covered his optics, holding his helm, that all familiar fear curling around his spark. _What happened? Why can’t I remember? I was walking, but then what? What happened? What?!_ The more he thought the more his helm throbbed. “What…what happened?” He asked between breaths. _Calm down, calm down! It’s ok, it’s ok. Your safe, relatively unharmed. He’s not moving. You’re ok. I can be calm._

“They attacked.”

Red Alert split his fingers a crack to peak at Prowl. _They attacked?_ _Who are they?_ “Who attacked?”

The grey mech pushed himself up, stretching his wings calmly. He looked to the side. “Them.”  

His vents caught at the same time his spark stopped. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, not even the scream that lodged firmly in his throat.

There, a few metres away from him lay a greyed-out helm in congealed energon.

Red Alert swallowed and closed his fingers, cutting off his vision. _You’re still recharging. This is just a bad flux._ His helm swam. _It’ ok. You’ll wake up soon._ He forced his stiff, trembling fingers to part.

The lifeless, dark optics kept staring at him.

“What is that!?” He squeaked, voice breaking as his vents came heavy and fast. _Don’t panic! Don’t panic-don’t-panic! It’s dead! It’s dead..dead. It’s…Exactly! It’s DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!! What…who…oh Primus._ He turned large, round optics to Prowl. _I’m gonna die!_

He jumped, but a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down. His horns sparked.

“LET ME GO!”

“No.” A large wing wrapped around him and pulled him close to a grey chassis.

Red Alert’s optics bulged, his vents rasping as he struggled. His vision blurred. _I’M GONNA DIE! I’M GONNA DIE! I’M GONNA DIE!_ His fingers clawed into the soft ground as he braced himself. He squeezed his optics shut. _This was it!_

Somewhere far someone was mumbling, but Red Alert couldn’t hear past the high-pitched screetching in his helm, nor the force that squeezed at his spark as if to extinguish it.

Something soothing pressed against the fear.

 _Calm_.

He drew his legs up and covered his sparking helm with his arms.

_Calm._

He drew a deep vent, frame shaking. _Gonna-die-gonna-die-gonna-die-gonna-die._

 _Calm_.

The hand squeezing his spark eased. Raspy vents sawed through his aching, trembling frame.

_Calm._

He blinked his burning optics open, his vision a blur of dirty red. _Find…something…focus….._

_Calm._

Red Alert sucked air in, his helm spinning. _Focus….ok. Focus……venting……Focus….ground….focus….on the…ground….focus….pressing against….calm….ground….ok….ok….I’m…I’m….ok… You’re ok….Not…gonna…_ “Kill…me?”

_Calm._

“Illogical.”

 _Illogical???_ Red Alert blinked, that level tenor breaking through the hazy fog flooding his aching processor. “Illogical?” He repeated blandly. He could grab that. He could focus on that. _Illogical…focus._

A malleable wing brushed lightly against his frame and he bristled, pulling away.

“Yes.”

Red Alert blinked rapidly.  _Focus._ He drew steady vents… _1…2…3…out…1…2…3…steady. Feel the ground beneath your pedes, feel the vents flowing into your ventilation system. Feel the pain in your processor. Focus on it._ The tremors raking his frame eased.

With a final deep vent, he lifted his heavy helm. He blinked at the grey mech filling his vision. Prowl’s expression was neutral as ever, yet the optics were searching, analysing. It was the first tendrils of change he had ever seen. It wasn’t pleasant.

Red Alert clamped his armour. It was almost as if Prowl was seeing into his very core, tearing him apart. Then abruptly the optics changed, becoming unreadable.

_Calm._

It still permeated Prowl’s field as if he was the embodiment of the virtue. Red Alert allowed his field to expand, to touch on it, soak on it. There was no undercurrents. Nothing.

It wasn’t natural…but right now Red Alert didn’t care. He filed it away to examine later. What mattered was that he regain his faculties. He was too on edge…but then again who the Pit wouldn’t be after seeing a….a…he swallowed again and glanced to the side, but the silver doorwing hid the grisly scene from his sight.

“Thanks.”

The edge of Prowl’s lips turned down for just a moment before straightening. His field flicked with an emotion that was too quick for Red Alert to catch, but levelled out almost immediately.

Red Alert filed that little piece of emotion away for later perusal as well.

The two sat staring at each other.

Red Alert drew his legs up, hunching in on himself. “Uhm…” He flicked his optics from side to side.

Prowl said nothing as he crouched before Red Alert, wings still extended to surround the smaller mech.

“I, uh, think you can move back a bit?” Red Alert moved to rub at his temples again. His nerves were raw, and his sensory net detected even the slightest of air currents as they floated over his hot frame. He didn’t need an extra presence pressing beyond his personal boundaries.

Without a word Prowl withdrew his doorwings and sat back on his hunches, his eerie stare still fixated on Red Alert.

Red Alert squirmed back. Looking anywhere but at Prowl….or the helm. His gaze settled on a deactivated frame.  He drew a deep vent and released it slowly, but refused to look away. He needed to remember what happened. He needed to see how he could avoid this in the future. This was in the past…he needed to stop it in the future. He chased his thoughts, but they kept bringing him back to the icy wind and setting suns. His last thoughts were those of getting shelter.

He straightened his back, nodding at the frame. “What happened?”

Prowl finally turned his helm away to look at the frames and Red Alert’s shoulders relaxed.

“They attacked.”

“Yes, I thought as much, but what else?” Red Alert flicked his free hand in the air.

“I deactivated them.” That same serene voice answered without inflection.

Red Alert pursed his lips and shuttered his optics. Primus, was he supposed to pull every tiny bit of detail out of Prowl? He continued to massage his sore helm. “I function on details, Prowl.” He quipped through grit denta.

“Detail?”

Red Alert groaned. “Yes Prowl, like what happened _exactly_. I need to know why they attacked, what happened when they attacked, and what happed _after_ they attacked”. He pressed against the ground as he pushed himself up on unsteady legs. He needed to get a closer look at those frames.

His sensory net prickled as Prowl got up as well, as quietly as an avatar. It was unsettling how silently he moved. He kept a sensor locked on him.

  _Not that it will help you much._ He grimaced as he looked at the three frames. He knelt next to the first frame who was obviously the owner of the gory sight that had greeted him. The helm had been ripped off cleanly, the shoulder out of joint and the knee strut broken. His optics fell on the pointy purple face snarling at him. He traced it lightly. He’d seen this before. His ridges drew down low over his slate grey optics. He’d seen them at -

“You require a debrief.”

“Hmm?” his helm snapped back to Prowl, expression open and hands still lingering on the purple face. The mechs’ gaze held that same, calculating look. _Debrief?_ Red Alert looked back at the frame. “Definitely military.” He murmured to himself. Not a pleasant though….Primus, maybe he really was ‘unpleasant’ with all the mystery surrounding Prowl. He swallowed. “Yes Prowl. I require a debrief.”

Prowl nodded sharply, legs braced, arms behind his back and doorwings arched as he stared straight ahead. “You took point, I maintained a safe tracking distance. At evening, the four mechs attacked. I neutralised the threat. You were harmed and acting irrationally. I have analysed that to be a recurring feature.”

Red Alert narrowed his optics to tiny slits, helm dropping slightly to aim his horns at Prowl. “So I’m unpleasant and irrational. Thank you very much.”

Prowl remained as unmoved as a rock.

Red Alert growled but let it slide. Really. This mech had no manners whatsoever! If he was a mech. He might still be a drone – except for that little frown he had displayed. Oh well. At least he had the bare struts now of what happened. He cocked his helm to the side and huffed “So, you said I took point. What part of “head that way” did you not understand?” He murmured under his vents.

“You are all I know.”

Red Alert’s hand hesitated as it hovered over the dead mech’s chest, Prowl’s words soaking into him. _All I know._ “Damnit.” He rubbed at his temple, optics half-shuttered. This wasn’t the first time Prowl alluded to not knowing anything, but at the same time he could give him a lowdown of what happened. Either this mech was brilliantly clever or brilliantly stupid.

 _Or maybe he had an accident and lost some of his memories, like you just did?... Shut up… It doesn’t make sense... Not a lot of things do in your helm… Shut it!_ He pressed his hand over his optics. His helm was too sore to be thinking these kinds of thoughts. “I need to get some pain chips or something from these mechs.” He hesitated.

Looking over decimated, dead frames was one thing, but actually searching them through…His lips curled down as a shudder rippled through him. Not on his list of ‘want to do’ things.

“I have already retrieved all valuable objects.”

Red Alert curled his fist then flexed his fingers. Apparently, it would remain on that list. He glanced over his shoulders at Prowl. He should probably be thankful…but he should probably also check what Prowl took, as what constituted ‘value’ to Prowl might not be the same for him. He pushed off the ground. “Show me.”

He walked over to Prowl on shaky legs, thankful to leave the frame behind him. Prowl knelt and withdrew the items from his subspace.

Red Alert smiled when he saw the medical kits. “Great! This is what I’m after.” He bent and picked up the first kit, turning the box round and round in his hands. The same purple face decorated its white sides and Red Alert’s lips tipped down. _Where have I seen this before?_

He tagged his processor to work on the puzzle as he unlocked the box, took out a pain chip and with an expectant smile slid it into the port on his wrist. Their cooling relief flowed through his frame like liquid and settled soothingly in his helm. His thoughts cleared as if a cloth had been wiped over them. He smiled. “Much better.”

Prowl cocked his helm as he looked at the place where Red Alert had shoved the chip in, but didn’t say anything.

Red Alert placed his hand defensively over the port, shoulders hunching. Primus how he hated being stared at! He cleared his vocaliser. “Did you take their shanix as well?”

Prowl raised his helm to look at Red Alert. “Shanix?” The optics unfocused, “It is required?”

Red Alert’s optic ridges shot high, a skew smile pulling at his tight lips. “Well, uh, yes? You know, without shanix you basically can’t do anything.”

Prowl blinked slowly, his gaze unfocusing before he seemed to snap back to Red Alert. His frame stood perfectly still. “Shanix…We require resources to reach the north.”

Red Alert’s face morphed into a grimace and he scratched his chin. “Yeeessss…..but, uhm, well, I uh, have a problem with that ‘we’ part of the sentence.” He splayed his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful that you saved my aft, but…” He glanced at the frames, then back at Prowl. Pit, the mech was a killer and worse than that he was completely unreadable and that made him unpredictable which made him a threat. _Do you really want a threat tagging along? You won’t know when he’ll turn on you!_ He bit his lips and dropped his optics, tucking his arms around his torso. _Give the mech some leeway – he did save you. Killed a bunch of mechs to do it, but he saved you._ His optics flicked back up to Prowl. _He could be useful. You can shoot but you can’t fight. You weren’t trained for it._ He rubbed a hand harshly over the non-bruised part of his helm. “You know, I’m still trying to figure you out.”

Prowl lifted his chin ever so slightly. “Figure me out?”

“Yes.” Red Alert shrugged. He couldn’t trust this mech, but he might need him. “You say you only know me and that ‘other’ mech, but what about everything else?” He pointed a finger at the corpses. “You can do basic things like talk, and walk, and…fight. You analyse but don’t socialise. You searched them through and took what was necessary but left the shanix. You treated my wound, and you…” _miraculously kept me from losing it._  He pressed his lips tightly together. He did owe him that. “You’re so contradictory. And you don’t have any, any tact….you appear, well, uh…expressionless?” _Dronelike._ He drew a deep vent, helm tilting forward as his ridges squished together. “Who are _you_!?”

Prowl blinked. “I am…” His face contorted painfully, doorwings flinching back before a neutral expression settled over him like a shutter being closed, while his doorwings stilled unnervingly.

Red Alert narrowed his optics, helm tilting to the side as he studied Prowl. _That was…odd. Almost like a reset._ He raised his chin, optics still narrowed as he studied him. “Prowl, what is the last thing you remember?”

The doorwings tipped up ever so slightly. If Red Alert hadn’t been watching for signs, he would have missed it.

“Clarify what you require.” Prowl didn’t so much as move, his voice perfectly even.

 _Ah, so the upward flick signals confused thoughts._ Red Alert tagged that to the movement and crossed his arms, jutting one hip out to the side. “Before we met, you mentioned that ‘other’ mech. What do you remember from before then?” He canted his helm, optics roving over Prowl, but settling on his doorwings. He was made to search out weaknesses and he’d found Prowl’s. The _lack_ of expression and the minute signals.

Prowl’s golden optics unfocused. His doorwings gave a single shudder before settling against his back. “Darkness.”

“That’s it?” Red Alert tapped his pede against the moist ground and drummed his fingers against his arms. “You only remember it being dark? I need you to really focus back to that time. It’s very important that you tell me _exactly_ what you remember.”

The golden optics focused their sharp gaze on him. “Darkness.”

Red Alert rolled his optics and worked his jaw. He wasn’t going to get upset. “Alright. So darkness. We’ll settle for that. What happened during the darkness?”

The tips of his doorwings flicked once. “This is important to our mission?”

 _Mission?_ That icy ball in his tank grew as Red Alert processor connected the dots. He glanced back to the lifeless frames, his plating tingling. _Deal with it later, first get the info._ He drew a deep vent, pushing as much calm into his field as he could muster. “Yes, Prowl, this is important to our mission. I need a debrief.”

Prowl blinked. “Darkness, then the mech. He…” the helm canted slightly to the side, the steel grey chevron reflecting small drops of light… “disconnected me and ordered me to go to room B3. We rendezvoused. You are familiar with the details from there on.” 

“Disconnected you?” Red Alert rubbed at his optics. “Nothing disconcerting about that image.” Pit, he wouldn’t be the first thing that was hooked up in that horrible place. Red Alert folded his arms again, hunching his shoulders as he thought. The dots -  the dots painted a singular possibility. He looked at the purple face adorning the medkit. His optics flicked to greyed frame and the purple face. His processor pushed one of the dots and a memory unfolded before his open optics.

_Red Alert sat hunched in the corner of his sterile cell, aching back pressed against the cool wall. His sensor net tingled as he detected every little anamoly in the air currents. His audials tinged as he heard pedesteps coming down the hallway, a murmured conversation bouncing between the two._

_‘He’ll be ready to take his place shortly.’_

_‘Lord Megatron demands speed.’_

_‘He will be ready on the date appointed.’_

_‘He needs to be ready now. The Autobots’ are still weak. We must act now.”_

_The pedesteps came to an abrupt hold outside his cell. Red Alert braced himself as he pushed into the corner._

_‘He will be ready at the appointed time.’_

_The door swung open and a large frame stepped in, dwarfing the cell. Red Alert stared into the depths of crimson optics, then quickly dropped his gaze to the mechs chest._

_An ugly, purple face snarled back at him._

“Lord Megatron.” Red Alert whispered. His fingers dug into his arms. He had suffered abuse, been tweaked, his glitch exploited for the sake of that hated designation. He sucked air into his vents and looked at Prowl. No doubt the mech was being weaponised as he had been. Only something went horribly wrong with _him_. A shiver ran through his frame and he hugged himself closer.

 _Exactly. You can’t leave him alone. Besides, your chances of survival will be much higher if this mech is loyal to you._ Red Alert bit his lips. It was true – if this mech was on his side….he turned his helm to survey the rest of the frames. His helm felt fuzzy. It would be advantageous to have another mech with fighting skills with him. If the purple-faced mechs were after them, they would be safer in a pair.

Biting his lip, he nodded. Yes. That would be the best course of action. It would be safest. “Ok.” His pede dug into the soft dirt. “We’ll travel together to the North. Our paths will split there.”

He spun on his heel. “We’ll take the credits and head to the next village. We’ll get what we need there.” He glanced over his shoulder at Prowl. “Who knows? Maybe along the way you’ll remember something.”

_If he really doesn’t remember anything or if he doesn’t kill you first._

He grimaced at the unhappy thought as he knelt next to a greyed frame. He drew a deep vent. _Just do it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok - so RL is being totally glitchy. I'm not even going to try and say I'm going to keep to a schedule since then Murphy seems to take it up as a challenge.
> 
> But that being said - I am working on all my fics whenever I get a little time. Thanks for all your support!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive! Yeah! This muse has been kicking and screaming, but finally got her tied down enough for a chapter - still working on the other fics, but alas not yet ready for an update. Thank you for all the support and patience, especially as my update schedule is so sporadic!

Prowl folded his doorwings over his shoulders, pedes planted firmly as he stared into the deep night, optics focused on the shining dots of light plastered against the dark canvass.

It was another village.

Softs puffs sounded from behind as Red Alert came up to him. The gravel crunching softly beneath his pedes. He stopped as he spotted the village.

Prowl turned his attention to study the red mech. Small drops of condensation beaded his helm above his pale grey optics. His plating quivered as the breezed passed over them.

As if feeling his stare, Red Alert’s optics darted to him, and he tentatively raised a hand to his helm, touching the wound. His face contorted at the touch.

 _Discomfort. Pain._ Prowl’s processor supplied him with the words Red Alert had taught him. Words were coming faster to him now, yet the void in his processor teased him only with blurred shadows and painful twinges.

In the three orns they had been travelling together again, Red Alert’s pace had decreased. He recharged more. Fuelled less.

“Your helm is wet.” Prowl mentioned and turned back to the lights. They had left the edge of the forest as the two suns had set, and before them lay open plains, littered only with low-level rock formations. Prowl did not like the exposure, neither the ambush opportunities, but if they wanted to reach the lights, and they needed to, then they would have to cross it. Red Alert had said as much.

An irritated click sounded, but he paid it no special attention. Red Alert’s answers were always preceded by an irritated click.

Red Alert dropped his hands and turned to look around himself, spotting a flat rock feature. He lumbered over to it. “I am…running hotter than normal.”

The tip of Prowl’s doorwing flicked in, then stilled. He accessed his own thermometer. “My frame degree reeds 37.9 degrees. That is normal?”

Red Alert slowly seated himself on a large rock and dropped his helm into his hands. When he spoke, his tone was low and slow. “Yes. What do you remember about frame temperatures?”

Prowl blinked slowly. Over the past three orns Red Alert had constantly asked him what he ‘remembered’. Most often nothing came to his processor. He shuttered his optics and drew a deep vent. Even though he ‘remembered’ more, there was nothing of significance according to Red Alert, but he said it might change. So the mech continued to ask, and Prowl continued to tie the loose strings dangling in his processor. _Temperature. Warm is pleasant. Cold is unpleasant._ That much he knew. What he remembered? Nothing.

“I am pleasant.” Prowl opened his optics and waited for feedback.

Another click. “That’s not what I meant and you don’t feel _pleasant._ It’s just…wrong.” Red Alert groaned as he lifted his helm, blinking rapidly as if to focus better. He pressed his fingers against uninjured his temple. “You’d rather say ‘I am comfortable’. You feel comfortable Not hot, not cold. Pleasant is being amiable.”  He bent forward and rested his arms on his knees, helm hanging low. “But I meant do you remember anything like hyperthermia, hypothermia, fever,  anything like that?”

“Negative.”

A heavy sigh escaped Red Alert as he lowered himself to the ground, resting his back and helm against the cool ground. “I need to rest a little.” Around them micro insecticons chirped and whirred, while night avians sang into the crisp air. His pale grey optics, half-shuttered, focused on Prowl. “37.9 is a normal temperature. You are supposed to be measuring like that. I am currently measuring at 42 degrees, which means I am running a fever which probably means this stupid helm-wound is infected.”

 _Normal._ Prowl focused in on his frame as he updated his internal files. He felt the cool ground against his pedes, felt the chilly breeze brush his doorwings. He felt…normal. Not pleasant, but normal. Neutral.

“Affirmative.” Prowl nodded sharply, his optics focusing on the distant lights. “I have updated my files. I am normal.”

“Huh…far from it if you ask me. Well, while your updating. I’m going to get some recharge. Rest will help bring the fever down.” Red Alert’s voice faded away as he lay on his side, helm resting on his arm to cushion it against the dank foliage.

Prowl turned towards Red Alert, doorwings ticking up. The perspiration still dotted his helm, and he was pale, even in the soft moonlight. He was uncomfortable. Not normal. He walked towards Red Alert and sat down in front of him, throwing his silvery doorwings out to cover the mech. His processor spun around the words Red Alert had spoken. He was 3.6 degrees warmer than he should be. His pace was slow. His speech softer. His optics were dim. Something clicked and fell into place. Prowl shuttered his optics as he tried to chase the thought through…nothingness. A small frown pulled at his optic ridges. No – not nothing. There was something. He slowed his venting and focused only on the thoughts of Red Alert. He lifted his helm and opened his optics.

“You are deteriorating.”

“Hmmm?” Red Alert peered out from beneath heavy shutters, curling his knees more towards his chest as Prowl’s doorwing sheltered him against the cool breeze.

“You are deteriorating.” Prowl repeated, his voice firm.

Red Alert drew a deep vent. “Yes, but it’s not nice to say that. You’d rather say “you’re not feeling well”, and no, I’m not. I feel horrible and my helm wants to split.”

Prowl snapped round to Red Alert, “Your helm is splitting? You should have informed me the wound is growing.”

“Oh for frag’s saaaaake.” Red Alert buried his helm in the nook of his elbow. “It’s an expression. It means my helm hurts a lot. I’m in a lot of pain. It also means I don’t want to think – much less be _talked_ to. So just…shut up!”

Prowl blinked and turned his helm away. Red Alert was deteriorating. _Not well._ His optics dimmed as his processor whirred. _Deteriorating. Deteriorating…._ His lips pressed against each other. There was something…something there. _Deteriorating._

His optics swam as an image formed in his processor.

_Bright lights. Energon. A mech kneeling. A red cross. Pain._

Prowl gasped as a sharp pain stabbed into his helm like a knife. He grabbed his helm, vents seizing. He blinked and it was gone. He inhaled deeply, optics wide.

An icy feeling settled in his tanks as a shiver ran through him. _Medic._ The word….made him….feel. But it made him feel strange. He ran a diagnostic.

His temperature was 38.1. Normal? Not normal? Not neutral. His spark spun and his chest felt tight.

“You ok?”

He swung his helm round to see wide, pale optics watching him from underneath the tips of his silver wings.

“Affir – “ Prowl paused and cocked his helm. He was cold, but not cold. His frame was hot, but he was cold? Another stab echoed through his helm and he flinched. Was he deteriorating? Red Alert would know. He must remain in optimum condition or their safety was as risk. “My temperature is 38.1. It is within acceptable parameters?”

The pale optics deepened in colour and Red Alert’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He didn’t answer for a while. “Yes, between 37 and 39.5 is acceptable parameters.” He laid his helm down again, but he kept staring at Prowl. “Is that all? You flinched…badly. And your field…”

Prowl blinked at him and rested his arms on his crossed legs. Why had he flinched? His rise in temperature was not the only thing that occurred. Dots connected in his processor, tingling his awareness. It occurred because of the shadow. Because of the _medic._ He fullfed his armour. “Negative.”

“No. Don’t say negative. You sound like a drone. Say ‘no’.” Red Alert grumbled. “So what else?”

Prowl remained silent as he searched for the words to describe the medic and the…oddness of it. “I am cold, yet my temperature is 38.1. There was a…memory… It was uncomfortable.”

“A memory? Of all the times to have one…” Red Alert pushed himself up, optics squinting as his face pulled into a pained grimace. He placed a hand against his wounded temple.

“Affirmative.” Prowl studied the wound in the dim light. He could not detect any anomaly. It certainly wasn’t splitting.

Red Alert uttered something under his vents that Prowl ignored. “Affirmative means ‘yes’, so say ‘yes’. Update that file would you. Negative, say ‘no’. Affirmative, say ‘yes’. Now, what do you mean with ‘a memory’. Tell me what you remember? Why did you feel uncomfortable?” He leaned back against the rock, optics shuttering briefly before he stretched them open.

Prowl stilled as he recalled the image. Pain twitched inside his helm, but he pushed on. He now knew what the shadow was. It was necessary. “White light. Energon….” He canted his helm. Was that on him? _Affir – yes._ “Energon on me. There was a mech – he was white, but had a red cross. Pain. That is all.”

“That’s it? You don’t know the mech?” Red Alert shifted, helm rolling back against the rock.

“No.”

“Not much to go on, but at least you remember something. That’s good.” Red Alert’s optics roved over his frame. “Maybe you will remember more.” He gently laid back down again.

“You require a mech with the red cross.” Prowl stated.

“Probably. And it’s called a doctor. Or first responder…. Or medic. There are many….many terms to use for them….” Red Alert’s voice trailed off as his frame went limp.

Prowl watched him, then turned his helm back to stare at the lights. _Medic._ That is the correct term. They would stay until Red Alert onlined. Then, they needed to find a medic. There was a good probability that the town would have one.

_87.3% probability._

Prowl watched the small figure as it blipped in his HUD.   _Parameters are acceptable_.

Acceptable. That was good. That was right. _Probabilities should always be within acceptable parameters_.

His lips pressed together. A memory lingered on the edge of his awareness. _Probabilities should always be within acceptable parameters._

That did not….sound like him?

Prowl shuttered his optics as he replayed the voice. A dark figure formed, then vanished into nothingness. Nothingness bled into awareness - the small insecticons chirping, the sound of Red Alert’s ragged vents, the breeze caressing his frame. Prowl opened his optics and once more resumed staring at the lights.

The shadow would return. The nothingness was already less than it had been since the beginning. He simply needed to wait.

He glanced at Red Alert. His HUD brought up information. The mech was tagged as ‘ally’. _Ally_. Prowl’s doorwing twitched in the cool night breeze. He would ask the mech once he woke what that word meant. He knew ‘threat’ and that it needed to be eliminated, but how did ‘ally’ compare?

_Crack!_

Prowl’s helm snapped around as his doorwings shot up, scanning. He got to his feet, squatting in a position and ready to launch himself if necessary. His doorwings scanned the immediate area. Two small forms were moving towards him, not yet visible to the naked optic, but they would soon be.

His optics sharpened as he tried to draw the shapes in the darkness.

_Symbiotes._

His processor pinged the species of mechanical forms – a quadruped and an avian form. They were making their way towards him.

He folded his doorwings back into battle position. _Symbiotes have a master._ The shadow-figure danced at the tip of his mental awareness. _A master._ Prowl shifted his doorwings and scanned again. His HUD beeped with a sparksignature.

The signature grew stronger as it came closer. Prowl slid a knife into his hand. The quadruped would be the first target, then the avian. Once they were disposed of, the master would follow.

The quadruped suddenly paused and looked directly at him. The darkness was broken as two golden optics glared at him, a throaty growl escaping the small mechanical as it crouched lower to the ground.

Prowl flared his armour in warning even as he mapped out the mechanimal’s weaknesses. It would be harder to kill than normal mechs, given its agility and razor-sharp claws and fangs. It would be harder still with his ally and master.

A whining sound caught his attention. Behind the quadruped a ring of light appeared as a blaster powered up. Prowl lowered his chin. If he moved, the shot would hit Red Alert.

_Unacceptable._

“State your business my mech.” Out of the shadows a tall mech stepped forward, the avian settled onto his shoulder, squawking as it lowered its helm at Prowl.

Prowl remained as still as a statue in his crouched position as he analysed the situation. He dismissed every plan as they came within unacceptable parameters of success. Had Red Alert been online, his chances would be in the acceptable parameters.

“You alright?” The tall mech stepped closer, helm skew, but the blaster still aimed high.

Prowl narrowed his optics. There was no malice in the mech’s vocals. His processor downgraded the threat level, and yet Prowl didn’t move. He was the shield between Red Alert and this mech. His doorwings flared wider, hiding Red Alert from sight.

“Look mech, we’re just passing through. Now I won’t harm you, if you have no intention of harming us. Deal?” The mech kept his blaster primed and trained on Prowl as he stood his ground.

Prowl analysed the words and subharmonics, then nodded once. The mech was wary and there was no active aggressiveness aimed towards himself. Prowl meant no harm either and saw no need to neutralise the threat, but neither would he risk standing down when this mech still aimed the barrel of his blaster at him. He raised his doorwings. “I mean no harm.” He echoed. If attacked, he would retaliate. To initiate attack was fatal.

The large mech held his gaze a few more clicks then lowered his weapon. “Good, ‘cause I really don’t want to fight. Too much of that going on anyway.” He moved closer and as he did the quadruped followed suite.

“Where you hea-” He stopped and rocked back, optics narrowed as he looked past Prowl.

Prowl flared his armour and raised his doorwings in warning. The comfortable feel of the blade rested soothingly against his palm.

“Hey, Is your partner alright?” The mech didn’t venture closer as he pointed towards Red Alert, but his vocals changed.

Prowl analysed it. Red Alert had used the same harmonics when he was….concerned? Prowl’s doorwing twitched. _Concerned_. He blinked slowly. The blade against his palm was cool. This mech did not know him. This mech did not know Red Alert. There was no reason to be concerned. What was his motive?

The mech drew a deep vent and subspaced his blaster. “Look, mech, I get you’re suspicious and if your partners hurt, even more so, but maybe I can help.” He held his hands up. The quadruped at his heals flattened his armour and sat down, but the wary optics bore into Prowl.

Red Alert chose that moment to moan as his helm rolled to the side. Prowl draped his doorwing over Red Alert. _He requires a medic_.

Prowl studied the mech as he held his hands up, watching closely for any flaw in his demeanour. There was no engraving on his armour, no purple snarl greeting him. He blinked slowly. Red Alert’s health had been deteriorating. He required assistance, and yet prowl would not know how or where to find the assistance. There was a 56% possibility that the mech before him would be able to assist in finding a medic. There was a 44% possibility that the mech would betray them. The statistics did not fall within acceptable parametres. There were too many variables. He needed information.

The mech remained standing as still as a statue.

“Are you a medic?” Prowl asked, his optics locked onto those of the mech.

“No, I ain’t, but I know where to find a reliable one in the village yonder. That being said, I have some field skills that might be handy.”

Prowl analysed the subharmonics. _Neutral_. He did, however, wish that Red Alert was awake seeing as he had no idea what the mech’s last statement meant. “We require a medic.” Prowl reiterated.

“Ok that’s cool mech.” He dropped his hand to rest on the quadruped’s helm, but other than that didn’t move.

Another whine from Red Alert had Prowl’s doorwing twitching. He required assistance. Prowl could not give it to him, and yet his processor insisted he defend his ally. He squeezed the knife in his palm, the sharp edge of the blade digging into his palm. The pain grounded him. His mission was to reach the northern boundary. His priority was to ensure his ally survived.

He required his ally’s assistance.

The blade retracted into his subspace and Prowl flattened his armour. He stood gracefully, folding his soft doorwings behind his back. He looked at the mech and for a while they stared at each other.

“So, uh, this is getting a little awkward my mech. Maybe we should just start over, huh?” The mech took a step closer as he scratched an audial horn. “Designation’s Blaster, and this here,” he patted the quadruped’s helm, “is Steeljaw and the one sitting on my shoulder is Rewind. They’re my cassettes.”

Prowl nodded at them, but remained silent.

Blaster tilted his helm, a half-smile pulling at his lips. “I didn’t catch your designation?”

 _Catch his designation?_ Prowl’s doorwing flicked up. He had not thrown anything?....maybe…designation referred to his callsign. Perhaps this mech was referring to another way of asking for identification? Red Alert had referred to his designation as well, and had identified him as ‘Prowl’. Perhaps this was what the mech was referring to.

“…Prowl…?” Red Alert lifted his helm, slowly dragging his arms closer to his frame as his armour clattered.

Prowl crouched again, optics still glued to Blaster as he covered Red Alert with his doorwings. The smaller mech stilled.

Blaster kept his optics on Prowl, but the smile was gone. “He ain’t looking good, mech.”

“No.” Prowl agreed.

“So, I take it your designation’s Prowl?” Blaster moved closer, but kept his pace slow. “I can help if you want, otherwise I’m moving on.”

 _Help…assistance….are similar._ He glanced down at Red Alert. His face was pale even in the soft light of the moons, while beads of condensation dotted his forehelm. His priority was to assist his ally. Red Alert was his ally. He knew…little else. He nodded sharply. “Yes. We require a medic.”

“Ok, I’m going to have a look at him. What’s his designation?” Blaster turned to Prowl, his optic ridges high. The mech was an odd one, but his field was calm and open.

“Red Alert.” Prowl stated as he moved to the side to allow Blaster room. The knife slid once more into his palm. Should this mech harm Red Alert, he would not hesitate to kill him.

The quadruped stilled as he glared at Prowl. Prowl trained a doorwing on him to monitor his movements.

Unknowing of the silent stand-off, or perhaps trusting his symbiote, the mech let out a low whistle as he laid a hand over Red Alert’s helm. “He sure is running hot. What happened? Accident?”

“Attack.” Prowl crouched deeper, optics pinned on the mech. How much information should he divulge?

The quadruped inched closer to its master, its gaze locked on Prowl. The avian took flight, circling low over the trio on the ground.

Prowl angled his doorwing to detect motion if the quadruped moved, while with his other he tracked the avian.

“Attack. Cons I take it?” Blaster shook his helm as his lips turned down, inching to the side to get into a more comfortable squat. “They’ve been pretty active in this area of late. You neutral?”

 _Cons? Neutral?_ The words floated in Prowl’s processor, nothing attached itself. He was certainly not a ‘con’, since this mech would have noted him as such. So the only alternative was neutral. Prowl dipped his helm in the affirmative.

“So am I. Heading to the next town to gather some supplies and then getting the Pit out of here.” Blaster leaned closer to Red Alert, studying his wound. He gently touched the sides of Red Alert’s helm. “We should get him to a doc-bot. He ain’t gonna make it lying here.”

Prowl glanced at Red Alert, then back at Blaster. Red Alert would not take well to a stranger touching him, yet Prowl was at a disadvantage with his lack of knowledge. He examined the mech. The odds of being attacked was 28.9%. The odds that the mech could turn on them once he had Red Alert was 45%. The odds of Prowl defeating him and the mechanimals… _cassettes_ …sat at 66.98%. The odds that Red Alert would deteriorate significantly sat at 93.5%. His priority was to protect his ally. Finally, he nodded. “Yes. He requires a medic.”

Blaster looked him over, then ran a hand over his helm. “You ain’t got a lot of bulk on ya.” He vented as he looked at the quadruped. “What d’ya say, Jaw, should we give them a hand?”    

The quadruped glanced up at him, it’s tail flicking. He returned his stare to Prowl, lowering his helm and his audials flicking forward. The night insecticons’ chirps seemed to grow louder as the silence between the mechs stretched on.

Blaster’s lips pressed into a thin line as his one hand dug into the soft grass. “Mech…Prowl…I get you’re on edge, but I ain’t planning on harming you. Now, your friend needs help. The town is about three or four kels from here. You don’t have the bulk to carry him, but I do. But…before I do I need to know you ain’t gonna stab me or my cassettes in the back.”

Blaster’s words rolled through Prowl’s processor, trying to make sense of the conversation. _Ain’t…context refers to…a negative? Harm, refers to damages incurred. Negative harm. No harm. Friend…friend….friend refers to ally? Bulk? I have no bulk but the mech does?_ Prowl blinked slowly, his doorwings flicking as pressure built in the back of his helm. He fingered the blade, his thoughts evaporating as he focused on the cold feeling. “You do not intend harm?”

“No.” Blaster kept his face straight and his frame still. “I want to help.”

Prowl tilted his helm. He required assistance. Red Alert required assistance. He stood smoothly and the quadruped bared its fangs. He glanced at it briefly before looking at Blaster. “If you harm him, I will eliminate you.”

Blaster vented loudly, shaking his helm as he muttered something about Decepticons under his vents.

Prowl caught onto the word, a sharp twinge bit into his processor and the pressure in his helm increased. He rubbed at the blade again, its coldness soothing.

“I really don’t know why I should help ya, but blame my good spark on it.” Blaster threw over his shoulder as he gently lifted Red Alert. “Right. Let’s get going.”

 

* * *

 

Prowl stood to the back of the room, doorwings flared and denta grit. His nostrils flared as he drew in deep vents. The pungent stench of chemicals assaulted him. His spark raced. He needed to leave.

_Illogical._

He balled his fists as he watched the orange and red mech look over Red Alert. He scanned the room. There was no threat, no malice, and yet his spark thrummed and his throat felt dry. He needed to leave this place.

_Illogical._

His lips pressed together, doorwings flicking back. The lights were too bright. He blinked. _White lights…pain…energon…_ He needed to leave this place. He took a step forward, then halted.

If he left, Red Alert would stay behind.

_Not acceptable._

He drew in another vent. “He is…” Prowl paused as the words evaded him. He looked at Red Alert. What had he wanted to say? His armour clenched. He needed to leave this place.

The medic turned towards him, his smile lighting his optics as he nodded. “What was that?”

Prowl raised his doorwings. He chased through his empty helm. No words came. He needed to leave, but he would not.

The medic straightened and rubbed his jaw. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him a shot of mirconanites to clear the infection, and placed nanite binders to seal the wound. He’s lucky. A little lower and your partner would…not have been in such good condition.” He nodded as he walked over to a sink, rinsing his hands and then wiping them off with a clean rag. He bundled the rag and threw it into the bin.

Prowl watched him silently, armour prickling. His processor pinged him with a threat analysis. The threat that the medic would attack was 9.3%. And yet… He swallowed. “He is not in good condition.” Red Alert was far from optimal operating parametres.

The medic smiled knowingly. “Of course not, but considering all things he should be alright by morning. You can spend the night with him, I’ll just drag in another berth, or you could go to the nearest inn. It’s just down the road. Though, you look a little pale. Were you hurt as well? Do you want me to give you a check-up?”

“No!” Prowl snapped, armour clamping as he scanned the room. There was nothing. Only this mech and Red Alert. _Red Alert._ He turned back to Red Alert. His spark twinged uncomfortably, his chest plating tightening uncomfortably. He should not leave Red Alert. He should not abandon his ally. He clenched his denta. Neither did he want to remain in this room. There was no threat but it was not safe either.

_Illogical._

There was no reason to think this clinic was unsafe. Blaster had assisted them here, introduced him to the medic, and left. He was no longer a threat. The medic had treated Red Alert. He was not a threat. They were alone in the clinic. There was no other mechs. No other threats.

And yet Prowl felt…odd. He did not like this place.

A sharp, painful twinge to his processor halted his thought process.

“Are you alright?”

Prowl opened his optics. When had he shuttered them? He nodded, balling his fists. “Af- Yes.”

The medic frowned, his thick optic ridges drawn close over searching green optics. “Are you sure? You looked like…you’re not in any pain?” He stepped closer to Prowl, his field open.

Prowl recoiled, stepping back. His battle protocols pinged him.

_Illogical._

He raised his hand to stop the medic, lips parted and vents heaving. He blinked. What…what was he doing? Perhaps he was malfunctioning? He should ask the medic to examine him, and yet he wilted at the very thought of the medic touching him.

Why?

Pain blossomed in his helm and his face contorted. He raised a hand to touch his temple. Battle protocols requested activation.

_No enemy identified. Illogical._

“Sir?”

“Do not!” Prowl barked as the medic rushed towards him. “I am functional.” He glanced at Red Alert, then back at the medic.

He needed to leave. _Now._

“I will return.” He said and turned, marching towards the exit while his doorwings kept track of the medic. Thankfully the medic did not follow him.

He shoved the door open and stumbled out, the cold breeze buffeting his face.

The air was clean, beleaguered only with a sweet scent that made Prowl’s tank clench. But it was different than the clinic. There were no harsh lights, no empty slabs. Shadows assaulted him as he shook his helm violently. He stumbled into the wall, grabbing onto it to keep from falling. More shadows clouded his processor. His spark spun, vents heaved. The pain in his processor spiked, the pressure behind his optics building.

_Run. Run._

Prowl pushed off the wall, only to fall back against it as his legs gave way. He pushed himself up again, using the wall as support. Red warnings littered his HUD. He was hot…he was too hot. His chest constricted. He gasped, sucking in frigid air. His doorwings trembled, drawing tight to his frame. His knees buckled and he sank to the cold pavement.

Shadows danced across his vision, blurring the red with darkness. The darkness took shape…the form of a large mech.

_A single optic stared at him. Bright lights…too bright. The acrid stench of chemicals…the optic came closer…a hand reached out….darkness covered his vision._

Prowl jolted as his optics snapped open. He stared at a white ceiling. The berthpad was soft and warm, the soft _whirr_ of machines blended into the background.

His armour prickled as he lay deathly still. This was…familiar. He balled his fists.

“Prowl?”

That voice. His helm snapped towards the only thing that held security in the fogginess of his processor.

Pale, slate-grey optics stared at him. “Where are we?” Red Alert croaked as he slid a hand to his helm. He laid on the berth opposite Prowl, a small energon line connected to his upper arm.

Prowl blinked and pushed himself off the berth, his frame heavy and doorwings hanging low. His helm rewarded him with a dull ache that seemed to originate from his neck. He glanced around the single room. Beautiful painting dotted the walls and to the side of the berth a pitcher stood with coolant. A memory stirred of this room. Of Blaster and the cassettes. He had been here….but he had left? “The clinic.” He grit out. How did he get here?

“We carried you here. You needed a medic.”

“We?” Red Alert’s voice pitched. “Who are – ”

“Ah, you two are up early.” The red and orange medic from the previous orn chose that moment to pop his helm into the doorway. He entered fully, his smile bright. “I had expected you to rest at least a little longer.”

Red Alert glared at him, optics narrowing as he curled into himself. “Who are you?” Static laced his voice as he followed the medic into the room.

Prowl dragged his doorwing forward to shield Red Alert as he slid off the berth. The medic stopped at the display, his lips downturned and his optics held a note of sadness. He extended his arms to the side, fingers splayed and palms up. His red and orange paint glistered in the white light of the clinic.

“I am Dr Comeback and I run this clinic. You are currently in Corumkan. They brought you in yesterorn, you were unconscious and running a high fever.” He turned his green optics towards Prowl, his hands clasping each other. “How are you feeling? You had a severe crash.”

_How are you feeling? Crash?_

“You crashed?” Red Alert touched his doorwing and Prowl flicked it out of range as he took a step forward. “What happened?”

Prowl kept staring at the medic, but his thoughts ran internal. _Feel?_ He was conscious. His frame hurt, but he could process. He was functional. He dipped his helm. “I am functional.”

“Functional isn’t the same as feeling well.” The medic – Dr Comeback – said as he stepped forward, his field soothing and warm.

Prowl teeked it before withdrawing his own field as close as he could. His optics flitted across the room. The medic barred the exit. Battle protocols pinged to online, but Prowl dismissed them. The medic did not pose a threat, and if he did, he was easy to eliminate. “I am well.” Prowl said, flicking his doorwings in dismissal.

Dr Comeback scratched his jaw, his thick ridges furrowed low over his old optics. “If you are well, I am glad. But usually after a crash, you will feel heavy and tired. This would be normal as the processor needs time to recalibrate and this takes most of the energy meant for the frame. It would be better if you recharged for another joor or two.”

“Unnecessary.” Prowl shook his helm, but he committed the words to memory as he re-examined himself. He did…feel…tired and his extremities did not move within optimal parameters, although they were within acceptable parameters. He leaned his hip against the berth, angling his frame away from Red Alert and the medic. From this position, he would easily be able to attack.

“Why did you crash?” Red Alert pushed himself up as well, groaning as he did.

Prowl pressed his lips into a thin line. _Crash?_ He would need to clarify the term with Red Alert. What he did recall was the strange sensations that had assaulted him. An enemy from within…the shadow stirred and a twinge twisted inside his helm where the dull ache resided. He glanced at the medic, then at the berth. How…he had been outside. The corner of his lips turned down. “I left.” He glanced back at the medic.

“Yes, you did. You weren’t well, so I followed. You crashed outside my clinic, and I carried you in.” The medic pointed to the door before clasping his hands lightly. He kept his frame open and still.

 _Unconscious._ That was a grave weakness. The dots connected. _Crash was dangerous. Crash is a weakness._

“But _why?_ ” Red Alert clicked and he slapped the berth in open irritation. “Prowl were you hurt?”

Prowl shifted his armour. He did not want to talk about his weakness in front of the medic. Medics, although not a threat, were by no means an ally.

The medic cleared his throat as he slowly made his way towards Red Alert. Prowl studied him.

“I’m not sure, and I would appreciate information,” Dr Comeback shot Prowl a look, “but from what I can tell it appeared to be connected to your logic centre and emotional cortex. However, that’s from a deep scan. I can’t get through your firewalls, and as your vitals weren’t redlining, I didn’t bring them down, but I expect that you have been under a lot of stress lately, and that yesterorn’s events, knowing your mate is safe, pushed you to cracking point. It’s not normal, but it’s not unheard of either. You should have a thorough examination to make sure there are no damage.”

Prowl ran an internal diagnostic. He could not risk being damaged, but the thought of allowing this mech into his helm was…uncomfortable. His diagnostic pinged him with the results a fraction of a click later. He checked it. Apart from requiring a thorough defrag, there was no damages.

“I am well.” Prowl straightened to his full height, though it was half a helm shorter than the medic. He flared his doorwings, scanning. The illogical desire to leave this place remained, however, his frame did not feel the same pressure. He turned to Red Alert. He would not leave his ally. “Are you…well?”

“Tired, but I don’t feel like the Pit anymore. Thank you, doctor.” Red Alert cleared his vocaliser from the remaining static.

“Very well.” Dr Comeback nodded, although by the scowl marring his face, he wasn’t pleased with their answers. He turned his attention towards Red Alert and Prowl stood closer. “Red Alert, are you sure you are alright? The nanites have worked wonders to bring your fever down, but I’d still recommend medication for several more orns. And I’m hoping you will be more magnanimous in your answer than your mate.”

Red Alert tilted his helm at Prowl, optics running over him before he smiled sweetly. “Yes, my mate isn’t known for his conversations. Less so when he is _worried._ ” He batted his optic shutters at Prowl.

A small frown pulled between Prowl’s optic ridges. Red Alert was… _off._  Before Prowl could question if he was well, Red Alert turned his optics back to the medic.

“But I’ll take the medication, thank you. And as to my mate, it’s ok. It’s…rare…for him to get crashes, but it’s been a terrible couple of orns and after we were attacked in the forest…” Red Alert’s voice trailed off as he raised a hand to his helm.

Dr Comeback nodded, his field expanded to wrap Red Alert in soothing comfort. “Yes, the attacks have been increasing. It is said that the Decepticon movement is gaining ground in the South. Most mechs are heading north to avoid the fighting.” He glanced at Prowl, before turning to Red Alert. “I understand your hesitance for a processor sweep, but I would recommend it.”

Red Alert dropped his helm as he picked at the light mesh covering his berth, chewing his lower lip. “I can’t force Prowl to allow that. He’ll be ok. We’ll rest for a few orns. I promise. If he acts off or something, we’ll come back.”

Prowl tagged the word Decepticon. It had been the second time he had heard the word. It merited further investigation. As to returning to the clinic, Prowl dismissed that idea.

“Dr Comeback, we would like to compensate you for the medicine and energon, and if you could perhaps point us in the way of safe accommodation?” Red Alert shifted on the berth, fingering the IV that was imbedded in an energon line.

Dr Comeback nodded. “I would have preferred to keep you here for a few more joors, but I’m under the impression that neither of you are comfortable.” He reached over to Red Alert’s IV bag and turned off the valve, and then gently removed it from his arm. He held his digit over the line for a few clicks. “I would appreciate the credits, seeing as funding for medics is being diverted to the war.”

 _War?_ Prowl caught Red Alert’s optic, and the mech shook his helm. Prowl blinked. What did Red Alert mean with that?

Red Alert turned back to the medic, his armour clamped tightly to his frame. “Yes, war is a terrible thing.” He whispered.


	6. Feelings

The inn Dr Comeback had pointed them at was detestable…to say the least. Red Alert wrinkled his olfactory at the mouldy smell as they stepped into the modest room with its peeling paint and dark corners. It was simple, really, with a single double berth pushed against the wall and a chair and table in the corner. Basic to a T with no windows. The light flickered once, twice, then stabilised, casting the room in a gloomy, orange glow.

“Well, this is great.” Red Alert shook his helm and inched closer to Prowl. The Praxian drew his doorwings back, studying the room. His face was, as always, a placid pool that rippled with nothingness.

“Affirmative. It is not cold. It is pleasant.”

Red Alert groaned as he stepped inside and pulled Prowl along behind him. The door slid close with an abhorrent squeal. “I was actually being sarcastic, but it probably is an upgrade from outside.” He shook his helm as he paused in front of the closed washrack door. His face scrunched up. _No way I’m going in there._ He glared at the berth. Who was to say it didn’t have tiny microscraplets running around? He didn’t want them feasting on his energon.

Prowl moved into the room, doorwings flared wide as he inspected every nook and cranny. Red Alert rolled his shoulders as he watched. _Definitely military. Not disturbing at all…but not inconvenient either._

“There are no external entrances. The door will be easily guarded. The room is safe.” Prowl announced as his doorwings folded back into their neutral position.

Red Alert smiled, helm tipped lopsidedly. “Are you sure? Have you checked the berth for bugs?”

“Bugs?” Prowl flicked his doorwing as he turned to the berth, crouching next to it. His doorwings tilted up and back and flared subtly, the silvery feathers puffing and making him look like an overgrown avian.

Red Alert huffed as his grin grew. He dropped his arms and ambled over to the berth. In truth he hoped that the berth was safe; he truly needed to get some recharge and they had paid an obscene amount of credits for this shabby room. Besides, the dull ache in his helm was gaining momentum and his frame felt heavy. A small nap before an afternoon meal would do just the trick. He squatted next to the berth. “Bugs are tiny little beasts – like insecticons, just waaaay smaller. You know, those creatures that chirped at night while we were making our way here?”

Prowl stared blankly at him. “Chirped?”

Red Alert dragged a hand over his face, glaring at Prowl. “Chirp as in … _chirp. Crick. Click._ ” _Primus! How humiliating._ “Can’t believe I’m replaying sounds to you. One would think you’re a fragging sparkling.”

Prowl’s golden optics darkened, then brightened as he nodded. “An insecticon and a bug both chirp. Like we would speak.”

Red Alert arched his optics ridges. “Well, you’re certainly starting to make connections. Yes, basically.” _Definitely not going into the finer details._ He placed a hand on the berth and studied the corners, annoyingly aware of Prowl following his every move. His armour pricked. He hated close scrutiny, even if done innocently.

“No bugs.” Red Alert announced, relief flooding his systems as he pushed himself up and onto the berth. “I’m going to nap. I’m tired and sore. When I wake we can go down to get fuel. They don’t offer room service.”

“Understood.” Prowl stood and flattened his doorwings. He glanced once more around the room, then walked to the other side of the berth and lay down. “Lights off.”

Red Alert froze as the berth pad sank next to him. _Don’t panic._ He swallowed, shuttering his optics. _It’s just Prowl. It’s ok. He’s been protecting you this whole time. He’s just lying on the berth next to you. He doesn’t even know what’s a bug, so there’s no way he’d know what…that….is._ He drew a deep vent. Thinking of _that_ , there was something he needed to discuss with Prowl. But not right now. No way. Not now.

“Red Alert?” Prowl’s voice had him cracking open a single optic.

“Hmmm?”

“We are mates?”

The room dropped into silence.

“Primus hates me.” Red Alert muttered as he dragged a hand over his face.

He shifted, sighed, and rolled onto his side.

Golden pools of lights stared curiously at him.

He turned his helm away and stared at the dark ceiling. “Uhm, no, and yes. It’s, uh…” Red Alert pinched his olfactory ridge. Primus if he gave Prowl the wrong information now, it might go very, _very_ bad down the line. And he did _not_ want Prowl getting the wrong ideas or forming an unholy attachment to him. _Think! How to explain ‘pretend’?_ An idea struck and Red Alert ex-vented, sinking into the berth. Just talk military. He’s bound to understand that. “For the purpose…of…our mission…to get to the North, we are assuming roles as mates.”

“Define mates.”                                                                                        

“What?!” Red Alert pushed onto his elbow and stared wide-opticed at the grey mech. “You don’t know what mates are?”

Prowl kept staring at him; waiting.

“Ok, so Dr Comeback referred to us as ‘mates’, right?” _Primus don’t let this be complicated._ “Uh, ok. Soooo…you get like three…kinds of relationships. Uh, like…” _Think! What words does he know?_ He flapped a hand in the air. It was so hard with this insufferable mech! Some words he knew others was just like they weren’t there. He scratched his arm. “Ok, so like ‘ally’ and ‘enemy’. Although, enemy is not a relationship status. Although it is…it is, but it’s not really applicable here. Slag. Ok, bad example. Let’s start over. You get ‘ally’, which means you don’t kill that mech, you help them, ok?”

Prowl’s optics unfocused, then returned to Red Alert. “Understood. An ally receives assistance. You are my ally.”

“Right. Ok, so more than ally becomes ‘friend’. A friend is…slag. How do you define friend? My helm is aching too much for this right now.” Red Alert laid a hand on his pounding helm. This talk wasn’t helping him at all. He didn’t have friends, never wanted friends, so how was he supposed to explain friendship to Prowl? The closer a mech was to someone they more they got hurt. Allies was probably a good place to stay. Mutual benefit of staying alive. That’s where it should end, and that’s where his and Prowl’s weird alliance would end as well. The mutual benefit of staying alive. But…that didn’t solve the current social conundrum. He cracked an optic open at Prowl, face pulled into a grimace. “Friends…friends look out for each other more than allies. It’s someone you have an…affectionate bond with, but there’s _no_ interfacing involved.”

“Noted. What is interfacing?”

“……I’m done with this subject.” Red Alert shook his helm and turned away from Prowl. “I’m recharging. We’ll talk more when we wake.” He certainly wasn’t haven’t _that_ conversation lying down next to Prowl. Research have proven that once mechs learned of the…enjoyable….aspect of interfacing they were keen to experiment. Broaden their horizons so to say. He clicked as he snuggled into the worn bedding. The last thing he needed at his back was a horny Praxian.

What felt like breems later Red Alert slowly onlined to the sound of hot solvent running. He lay still, optics shuttered as he waited for his systems to boot properly, all the while stretching his sensor net.

He was alone on the berth. He opened his optics and sat up, the old berth creaking under his weight. Red Alert stretched languidly, the kinks working themselves out, he relaxed and fell back onto the berth. Primus he was feeling so much better.

His tank grumbled.

“I knew it was too good to last.” He muttered as he pushed himself. They would need to head down to the inn’s common room to get fuel, as they didn’t offer room service. Apart from the inconvenience, it was downright dangerous.

_That’s right!_ _It’s way too dangerous! Any mech could be out there, just waiting. What if the medic had told others about you? What if that other mech that had carried you had blabbed? What if they were already on their way? What if they were already at the inn? While you recharged, they could have surrounded this place! There isn’t even a window for you to check!_

Red Alert stilled on the berth, quieting his vents as he turned up his audials. Only the faint splashes of solvent as it splatter against a frame and the walls reached his audials.

_What if they’re just outside the door?_

Red Alert swallowed. It was the only door…there were no other escapes.

His plating pricked. They could be right outside. His mouth felt dry. Maybe…maybe if he didn’t move…

The sound of solvent cut off.

Red Alert held his vents and turned up his audials. _What if they pounce now…_

The washrack door slid open and Prowl stepped out, drops dripping and glistering on his frame in the dull orange light.

He raised his doorwings as he looked at Red Alert.

Two blades unsheathed from his arms as he side-stepped, his back to Red Alert as he faced the door. His doorwings inched up and out, flaring lightly as they did.

“Red Alert, what is the threat?”

“They could be right outside the door.” Red Alert whispered as his balled his fist against the blankets. “They could be waiting for us.” He sank back, optics wide. A small blue spark zapped his audial horn. _That’s right, they could be wearing spark dampeners. They’d know Prowl was a good fighter. Fool! Barely out a decaorn and already lax!_ He swallowed. “They’re wearing dampeners.”

As silent as the grave Prowl inched forward. He stood to the side of the door, blades ready as he unlocked the manual door. The lock clicked loudly.

Nothing happened.

The door slipped open and Prowl slithered outside. He glanced from side to side, then sheathed his blades. He backed into the room, and then shut the door. “There is no threat.” He repeated in his same placid voice.

“But there could be…” Red Alert didn’t take his optics from the door as he raised his knees to protect his chest. “They could be…”

“There is no threat.” Prowl stated, his voice as cold as steel.

Red Alert’s attention snapped to Prowl. The Parxian stood, shoulders back, doorwings flared and pedes apart. He would not tolerate any argument. Red Alert nodded, slowly at first, then more confidently as his vents returned to him. This mech was…intimidating.

“You’re right. It’s in my helm.” He hugged his legs as he rested his forehelm against his knees. _No one there. Stupid. Stupid._ “Thanks for checking.” He could trust Prowl to eliminate threats. That’s what allies did. Or at least that is what he used Prowl for. But what if Prowl wasn’t an ally? What if Prowl only used him as he used Prowl?

_He could still kill you…He could wait until you’re a nice distraction, then leave you. Maybe he lied and they’re still out there…_

_He has no reason to stick around. He helped me._

_Did he? Maybe he helped himself? You’ve not even seen the strange mech._

_He took me to a medic._

_Yes, a medic. He remembered a medic. So what’s to say he doesn’t remember more? Maybe he’s lying?_

“Stop it.” Red Alert covered his audials with his hands. “Just stop it!”

“I am performing no action?”

The deep voice snapped Red Alert out of his helm and his optics popped open.

Prowl stared at him, his doorwings lifting half an inch.

Red Alert licked his lips. “No…I…uh…”

A scan prickled his armour and Red Alert bristled, optics flashing as he straightened. He _hated_ scans! “Did you just scan me?!”

“Aff- Yes.”

“Prowl! That is _rude_!” Red Alert slapped the bed, lips pouting as his frowned at Prowl. _How audacious! And invasive! This prehistoric moron!_

Prowl tilted his helm. “Negative. The medic insisted. Your temperature is above normal parameters. You require medication.”

Red Alert clicked, fluffing his armour as he crossed his arms, chin down and horns pointed at Prowl. “We seriously need to work on your social skills. I’ll take my medication when I need to. You don’t simply _scan_ another mech without their approval! You are not a medic! And even if you were, it would be by consent!”

“Consent?”

“Oh for Primus sake! Can’t you just…” Red Alert curled his fingers, imagining Prowl’s neck between them. “I’m scolding you! Consent means You. Ask. My. Permission. You don’t do that unless I ask you to!” he jabbed a finger at his own chest.

Prowl stared at him, but his face suddenly scrunched and he blinked, optics paling as his face smoothed. “You require medication.”

Red Alert stared at him, all discomfort at being scanned shoved into the back of his helm to deal with later. _What was that? It’s the second time…_ Red Alert swallowed, leaning forward on the berth as the pad crunched under him. “Prowl?”

His doorwings inched forward.

“Do you…” Red Alert scratched the back of his audial, lips twisted in a grimace. How was he going to ask this? “What you did right now…the blink or something….do you, or what were you thinking of? Do you…did you remember something?”

Prowl looked at him, his face a perfectly blank canvass. “I…” his mouth remained open as his optics unfocused. “You are off.”

“What?” Red Alert’s optic ridges shot up. He squashed the first words that came to mind. Obviously Prowl was socially inept, so he had to take it slow. As with a sparkling. He drew a deep vent. “Ok, what do you mean by ‘off’. Can you,” he flapped a hand in the air as he thought of language Prowl would understand, “tell me why you say that?”

“You are…illogical.” Prowl lowered his doorwings and tipped his helm slightly to the side. “You make my helm ache.”

Red Alert stared at him. “Well, if you were any other mech I’d probably take that as an insult, but as I know not a lot goes on in that helm of yours, you’re probably meaning that literally.” He rubbed hard at his olfactory and then scooted off the bed. A long sigh escaped him as he contemplated the mystery he’d been unwillingly saddled with. Primus hated him. The universe hated him. And he sure as the Pit wished there was no one outside that slagging door!

Red Alert cleared his vocaliser. “Why am I illogical?” He asked as he folded his arms across his chassis, hip thrown out to the side.

“You are wary of enemies. Then you are angry at a scan. The two do not compute.”

“Oh.” Red Alert dragged out the monosyllable as his processor raced. Was Prowl incapable of making the jump from one subject to another, or was it the complexities of the emotions he found troubling, no doubt his glitch acting all irrational only added to the poor spark’s confusion. _Well, at least that made sense._ “And the ache in your helm?”

Prowl’s optics unfocused and Red Alert waited, trying not to tap his pede. He was starting to associate the unfocused optics with Prowl trying to figure something out internally. _Best wait for him._

A moment later the Praxian blinked and returned his focus to Red Alert. “I am trying to connect your behaviour with your…” Prowl paused, a small frown pinching between his ridges.

“Emotions?” Red Alert lifted his shoulders in a shrug as he leaned forward.

“Emotions?” Prowl asked.

“Oh well, this is just stellar.” Red Alert dragged his hands down his neck. “Let me get my meds first then we’ll go into _that._ ” He searched his subspace and withdrew a syringe. He wasn’t keen on getting himself doped, but he did feel his frame and if he was going to have a discussion with Prowl he needed to have his focus on the mech. _Primus, but this is a mess._ He shot a covert glance at the Praxian. There were too many questions, too many possibilities. If the mech had been reprogrammed then that might mean a centivorn’s worth of problems. Yet, there was life in the optics. He didn’t act reprogrammed. Just stupid and socially inept. Maybe he was a super advanced drone?

Red Alert pursed his lips. That was actually a distinct possibility.

_Uh, ‘scuse me he has a sparksignature?_

_Right. Drones don’t have those. Unless this one was given a sparkling spark?_ A full-frame shiver ran through him. Anything was possible at the Institution.

“You are cold?”

“What?” He lifted his helm to see Prowl watching him closely. At least the mech hadn’t run a scan on him. He shook his helm. “No. Just had a horrible thought.”

A flick of the doorwings was his only answer. The syringe finally emptied into his lines and he pulled it out, closing the port. “Ok. So Prowl, obviously some bad slag happened to you at the Institution. We’re going to have to figure it out together. Emotions are basically feelings. You have those, right?” _Primus please say yes! Please, please say yes!_

“I do not understand.”

Red Alert drew a calming vent. How the Pit was he supposed to handle this? Primus had the wrong mech! Unless this was punishment for some evil he did in a former life? Probably. He released the warm air slowly and splayed his hand. “You don’t understand. Can you describe to me how you feel right now?”

“Feel? I am not touching – ”

“No! No, I don’t mean touching, how does your frame respond to you not understanding?” Red Alert tried again. “Like…when I was on the bed. I was afraid. How I looked made you check the corridor, it made you draw your weapons. I was afraid and you responded. Me being ‘off’. That was me being ‘afraid’.” _Slag. That came out way more complicated._

_Way to go you probably confused him even further._

_Just shut up!_ He puffed air out of his vents. “How is…what are you thinking?”

Prowl blinked, slowly, but remained quiet.

Red Alert growled lowly and shook his helm. This was pointless and useless. The mech was a mess. If he didn’t even know the basics of what emotions, _feelings_ were, then how the pit was he even going to fit into society? What is the point trying?

_That’s why he’s got you._

“Shut up.” He hissed as he pressed two digits to his helm. Prowl was certainly causing _his_ helm to ache too.

“Feel. When my chest is tight or my spark spins faster?”  

Red Alert dropped his hand, hope and relief blooming like a newly formed magnolia. “Yes! Yes, that’s feel. Feeling. When did that happen? When did you feel that?” He took a step closer to Prowl and splayed his hands as if to catch something. Hopefully some mercy.

“At the clinic.” Prowl stated. “You were there. I needed to leave. My chest….I could not vent. My spark was elevated. I needed to leave. There was no enemy.”

“You were afraid.” Red Alert whispered as he bit his lower lip. He knew the feeling all too well. Fear was his constant companion. The cause of his glitch and paranoia. “I know the feeling.”

Prowl searched his face. “I feel fear.”

Red Alert glanced down as a self-depreciating smile warped his lips. “No Prowl, you felt fear. You were feeling fear. You are not afraid now.” Red Alert reached out, then hesitated. He hated touching other mechs. He balled his fist and tucked it back into his side. “Why? Do you remember why you felt like that?”

“Why?”

“Yes, did you have a memory?” Red Alert hoped he did. That would mean he wasn’t an advanced AI drone, but in his spark he already knew Prowl wasn’t. Prowl was just one seriously screwed-up mechanism.

“A single optic. Yellow.”

The world spun as Red Alert stepped back, as if a massive invisible hand had punched him square in the torso. Colour drained from his cheeks and he sank down onto the berth. _Single, yellow optic._ “Shockwave.” The name was static laced. He squeezed his optics shut and drew deep vents. _Shockwave! You idiot! And you’re still with this mech!? Are you insane? What if it’s him looking for you? What if he finds you!? What if this is his latest pet and he’d been programmed according to that psychopaths’ – ”_

He screamed as hands grabbed his shoulders and he jumped up, trying to push away. _No!_ “NO! Let me go!” Red Alert pushed and punched, but he was pulled flush against a stiff frame. Sparks zipped between his horns like lightning during a storm.

“You are fear.”

Red Alert panted as his struggles weakened. _Fear? No, no that mech was the embodiment of every bad flux that existed under the suns! He’s evil incarnate! You need to get away!_

“Let me go!”

“No. You are fear.”

Red Alert grit his denta as he pushed against Prowl’s unmovable hold. He couldn’t be found with this mech! If those mechs who had tried to kill them earlier had been able to report back then they were dead! And what about the medic? Maybe he would report them! Primus how could he have been so stupid!

“Do not fear.” The arms around him tightened to the point where he couldn’t vent. Fear exploded and the sparks intensified until they burned. A pinch to his neck plunged him into darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Slowly Red Alert opened his optics and stared at a dirty, yellow-tainted ceiling. _What…?_ He rolled to the side only to bump into Prowl. He stared at Prowl. His memory slowly returned to him.

“You must take your medicine when I say.” Prowl laid his hand on Red Alert’s forehelm, his voice even.

A small chuckle burst from Red Alert’s lips.

Prowl’s optic ridge arched slightly and the chuckle turned into a full-out laughed. Red Alert pressed his hands over his face. If he sounded hysterical to his own audials he didn’t care. What kind of horrible flux was this? What mech had he screwed over so badly that he would be in this situation. “Take your medicine!” Red Alert’s frame shook as he cackled.

“You are illogical.”

Red Alert shook his helm, the laughter dying off his glossa as he glared at the ceiling. He drew in deep vents and expelled the roiling heat. “Yes Prowl, I am the most illogical being there is. You probably screwed someone over too.” He drew a deep vent. “You know, common sense would say that I leave your sorry aft right here.”

Prowl remained silent as he sat ramrod on the edge of the berth, his golden optics dull and Red Alert almost wished for him to say ‘yes’.

“But you know, I can’t help but listen to the small, very small, little part of my dark spark that insists I keep you around. And it’s not just because you’re a good fighter, but because I feel sorry for you. How insane is that?! You’re like a sparkling with no sense and at the same time you’re like this military drone. I don’t know maybe you’re some kind of combination. I wouldn’t put it past Shockwave to do something that twisted.”

 “Who is Shockwave?” Prowl asked, and although his voice still held no inflection, it was softer. Compassion? Did Prowl even realise his tone had changed? Did he even know he had emotions without even knowing what emotions were?

Red Alert grimaced, “No mech you want to meet in a dark alley.” Should he tell Prowl? With Prowl’s inability to understand certain conversations and social skills, it might be better to leave it be. For now at least. The last thing he needed to add to his plate was Prowl spitting off Shockwave’s designation in public.

“You fear him.”

“Yes. He is a bad mech.” _Understatement of the millennia._ Red Alert pushed himself up with a heavy groan. Primus but his frame ached! Did he crash or something?

“If he comes near you, I will kill him.”

An unbelieving bark escaped Red Alert and he shook his helm. “You’d be doing the planet a favour, but he’s not that easy to kill.” He glanced down at his hands. They were shaking. “Let’s talk about something else. Please. I am uncomfortable talking about this…which means it makes me feel afraid. It makes me feel fear.”

Prowl nodded firmly and his doorwings flicked back.

Red Alert pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. His optics roamed the bland room. “We need to upskill you socially. We won’t be able to reach the north without drawing attention if you act like you do.”

“Act?” Prowl asked as he leaned back.

“Act means behaviour. When I behave a certain way, I act a certain way. Like…” Red Alert’s face scrunched up as he tried to recall an example with Prowl, “when you said ‘I am off’, you meant ‘I was acting strangely’. Do you understand.”

Prowl’s optics unfocused, then refocused. He gave another curt nod.

“Good. We might need to get you hooked to a datanet at some point to download some basic nonverbal cues into your processor…although we’d need to be careful connecting to the datanet. Don’t want our signatures to get picked up on.”

Red Alert swayed from side-to-side, the old berth creaking as he did. His processor raced. “At least you are starting to remember some things. That is good.” His tank grumbled loudly and he clamped his armour. Goodness that was embarrassing! He checked his fuel levels and groaned. They needed to refuel – in the public dining area. Great. Trust the only fragging inn in town to not allow room service. Every mech in town and surrounds probably ate in that little saloon.

A nagging thought came to him. The medic had referred to them as mates – had he done so to any other mechanisms? Slag. He worked his bottom lip. He’d need to address that with Prowl as, technically speaking, it could serve a very valuable purpose as their cover. He drew a deep vent. He needed to address it with more elegance than the last time. He drew a deep vent and braced himself. “Ok, so while we’re here, we need to discuss our relationship. Especially as we need to go down to get some energon.”

Prowl raised his doorwings an inch, but his mouth remained in a firm line. “We are allies. We are mates.”

“..Yesssss.” Red Alert wrinkled his olfactory as he shifted uncomfortably. “It means we need to act ‘close’, like friends.”

Prowl blinked. “Friends and mates are the same?”

“Yes, they are similar, but mates are even more affectionate, or kind, to each other.”

“They interface?”

Red Alert dropped his helm to his knees with an agonised groan. Trust Prowl to latch onto the one thing he really didn’t want to discuss. He puffed his cheeks and blew the air out slowly. “Yes, they interface, but we don’t need to do that…and you don’t need to theoretically know what that is. Ok?”

“If this mission requires us to be mates, I need to know the parameters.”

“Parametres. Right. Ok. Interface is private. Uh, so we only need to be mates when we are in public, or with other mechs. Strangers. We can hold hands. I’ll sit close to you. You can drop your doorwings over my shoulder. Mates do that in public.” Red Alert raised his hands in surrender. “Just follow my lead, especially when we are down in the dining area. Especially there, we need to be mates. It will keep others away as well.”

“Noted. We are mates.” Prowl gave a determined nod as he stood.

Red Alert raised his ridges at Prowl as he also stood. He fluffled his armour and raised his chin. “Yes, we’re mates, but we don’t interface. Got that?”


	7. Rumours of War

_Run._

Red Alert swallowed as his spark raced. His protoform crawled underneath thin armour.

_Run!_

He drew a deep vent as his optics darted about the stuffy room filled to the brim with chattering, laughing, _touching_ mechs. Light barely filtered through the dust-covered windows, barred so tightly that they didn’t even allow for the hope of a little fresh air.

His optics returned to the lively occupants in the room. In the corner a small band sang to the enthusiastic crowd, all of them cheering and singing along in the most horendious cocophany that had ever assaulted his audials.

_Run!_

“Oh Primus I can’t do this!” Red Alert turned to run back to his little safety hole but a firm hand caught his elbow.

“We must refuel.”

Prowl’s cool voice halted him. His chest rose with each harsh ventilations. “There are too many mechs…it’s not safe.”

The Praxian’s hold tightened until small rivlets of pain echoed up Red Alert’s arm.

“I will protect you. There are no threats. Come.”

Red Alert glanced over his shoulder at Prowl, then slowly gazed back into the over-stuffed saloon. There were mechs everywhere. He licked his dry lips and inched closer to Prowl. “How do you know there is no threat? There are dozens of mechs. Look at those in the corner near the window – they occasionally look over the room like they’re looking for mechs. Maybe they’re looking for us? Or what about those mechs behind the bar? It’s the best place to gather information. At the window to the far right – they are blocking that window. We won’t have any escape. This is a trap. We must…”

“Refuel.” Prowl stepped forward and all but dragged Red Alert.

“Prowl!?” Red Alert gasped as he grabbed Prowl’s hand and working to get his fingers loose. “Let me go!”

Prowl stopped and turned back to him, his silvery doorwing shielding Red Alert from curious glances thrown there way.

“This mission requires we fuel. You are drawing attention. Are you not in need of fuel?”

Vents still heaving, Red Alert bit his lip as his gaze once more slipped to the room. Prowl was right. More and more mechs were turning their attention to them. They needed to eat…maybe they should go out? But there were a host of other threats outside as well….He squeezed his optics shut and nodded. “Ok, ok. I need fuel.”

_Get a grip, Red! You’re attracting attention and that’s like 101 for ‘Do not do’. What’s that stupid saying? ‘Keep calm, and carry on’. That’s all there is to it. If anyone approaches you, we’ll run. Or Prowl can kill them. And while he’s busy killing them, you can escape…through that window, and that one too…or the door. Ok. You can do this._

Red Alert forced his tight lips to curve. “Ok, Prowl. You’re right. We need fuel.” A full frame shiver ran through his frame and a horn sparked as he stepped into the room. A few mechs glanced their way, but no one made a move. That was good. Now where to sit?

Red Alert raised on his tip toes as he searched the room for a seat, his field pulled in tight. There! A back booth had just gone open! “We can sit there. It’s not ideal…but it’s not bad either.” He pointed the taller Praxian in the direction of the booth. None of the booths were ideal. Too many mechs…but they needed fuel.

Prowl nodded and marched towards the booth, his hand still firmly curled around Red Alert’s elbow. Maybe it was his deliberateness, but mechs tended to step clear of the Praxian. As much as it relieved Red Alert that no one was bumping into him, Prowl gave off such a presence that he was bound to be noticed…or worse, remembered.

They couldn’t afford to be noticed or remembered. They needed to blend in.

“Uh Prowl? Could you slow down a bit?”

Prowl didn’t reply but his pace became more liquid as he wove through the crowds.

Miraculously the table was still open by the time they reached it. Prowl released Red Alert and indicated he was to slide into the booth first. Thankfully, it was a U-curved booth facing the room with a wall to the back. No one could sit behind them, and to the left the stage started. So no one would be to that side either. That meant only two sides needed to be actively monitored. Ok. They could do this.

Red Alert released a sigh of relief as Prowl released him. “Thanks. They’ll send a drone to get our orders. We just need to wait for it.” He slid over the cracked booth covers. It had obviously seen better orns. “I pity the mechs that this is the only inn they’ve got. It’s awful. I hope the food is at least palatable.”

The seat next to him sunk in. “Palatable?” Prowl flared his doorwings slightly as he tipped them towards the room.

Red Alert smiled. He could feel Prowl’s powerful sensory net as it expanded. _He’s your ally. He’ll protect you. Time to upskill your little sparkling warrior._ “Palatable means it tastes nice. You remember the energon you’ve been drinking?”

Prowl nodded.

“Ok, so that is bland. It tastes ‘bland’ – which means it doesn’t taste sour or sweet or grainy or smooth. Although…it could probably be classified as grainy, but that is more texture.”

Prowl turned his helm towards Red Alert.

Red Alert arched his optic ridges. “Too much info?”

Prowl nodded.

“Ok. Just remember this – the energon you know is bland and grainy. We are going to try something else.” Red Alert stretched his neck out to try and spot the order drone. “Once the stupid drone gets here.”

Another burst of applause filled the room as the band wound down their song. The lead singer – a well-built, silver mech that could have been of any origin bowed to the room shouting his ‘thank-you’s’ before saying he’d sing one more before his break. Red Alert shook his helm. They wouldn’t catch him dead on that stage. He drew a deep vent as the band struck up another tune.

Still no order drone.

“This is fragging ridiculous. The first time we ever go on a dinner date and we don’t even get decent service.” Red Alert planted his hand on the cheap formica tabletop. He froze. He squeezed his optics shut as he slowly lifted his hand off the sticky tabletop. “Oh Primus I don’t even want to know what that is!” He moaned as he turned his palm up. Whatever it was…it was sticky, sweet and _icky._ He swallowed the revulsion. “Prowl,” he pointed at a rag neatly folded in a holder on the middle of the table, “Please hand me that rag. This is disgusting.”

He grabbed the rag Prowl handed to him and wiped at his hand, lips curled in a disgusted snarl. “Well, if the tables aren’t clean then there probably _isn’t_ a drone operable in this slagging filthy place.”

He tossed the rag onto the tabletop and glared at it. They needed fuel…which meant they had to go to the bar to order some…

 _But if you do, then you’d lose your booth. And this filthy booth is the only filthy booth I’m willing to sit at._ “Frag that stupid rule that says no meals allowed in room. Not like we’re going to throw a party or something.”

“Party?”

Red Alert rolled his helm towards Prowl, lips pursed and optic ridges raised. “Where a lot of allies get together to dance and drink energon. We don’t do that.” He squared his shoulders and puffed his armour. The bar was _just there._

_You can quickly get some energon…you can ask Prowl to monitor everyone while you get fuel. It’s just a quick order. No big deal. It’s not too busy._

_It’s in the_ middle _of all those strangers! No way!_

_You need to fuel. The sooner you fuel the sooner you can leave._

_And what about Prowl? You can’t leave him here! What if someone talks with him. He’ll ruin everything!_

_No one’s going to talk with him. He positively screams ‘leave me alone.’ He’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Just go get some slag–_

“We should refuel. If a party means we will refuel, we must hold one.”  

“Huh?” Red Alert scrunched his olfactory as he stared at Prowl. _What is he…oh._ He clicked his glossa and shook his helm. “Party. Of course. You don’t even know what dancing is. You’re only stuck on ‘fuel’.” He bit his lip. _Prowl has a point though…the longer you sit tight the longer you need to be down here and vulnerable._

Red Alert sucked in a strengthening vent and nodded his helm. “Ok. I’m going to get us some energon. You keep your optics on the room and if anybody nears me with even the slightest bad intent then you….shout at me. Ok?” _Kill them is more preferable, but can’t take that chance if Prowl misjudges the situation and then getting the local enforcers involved. Don’t need that extra complication._ He stayed put a few more clicks before tentatively moving towards the opposite side so that he could slide out close to the stage’s side.

He could do this.

He glanced back at Prowl. “And for Primus sake, try not to talk to any mech and _do not_ ask them what something means. In fact, don’t ask anything in front of them.”

_It’s ok…He knows how to take care of himself. Go get the fuel._

**

Prowl kept his gaze locked on Red Alert as the mech headed towards a very clustered part of the room. Mechs were clambering and leaning over a steel structure, pointing at wording written on the wall opposite. Two mechs behind the structure kept nodding to them, then grabbed cubes that they’d deposit before the mechs who would promptly snatch them and turn away.

This was different than the forest. The forest was…pleasant. This was unpleasant. He shuttered his optics slowly as he raised his doorwings. He traced every single movement of every single mech in the room. Slowly his processor stored the data. The emptiness slowly filled with data of mechs interacting while drinking energon. He would analyse it later and glean from it what he could.

His processor tagged that none displayed any threatening movements. Still, Prowl’s golden optics studied them like a cyberhawk its prey. He would protect Red Alert. He would protect his ally.

Movement to the right of the room caught his attention and he snapped his helm around as a familiar sparksignature beeped on his net. The tall, red mech and his two symbionts entered the boisterous room and glanced around.

Their optics caught and the mech grinned, giving a small wave as he headed for Prowl.

Prowl kept his gaze on the mech as he aligned a sensor to keep watch on Red Alert. Red Alert had not given him clear orders what to do should a mech approach him – simply that he was not to engage verbally with them or ask questions before them. His processor tagged the mech’s movements. There was no malicious intent. His stance was relaxed. This mech was no threat. This mech was also familiar – he had helped them. Did this make him an ally? Was he not to talk with an ally? Prowl flattened his armour as thought threads knotted in his processor. He glanced at Red Alert then back at his approaching dilemma.

“Heya mech!” The large red mech rubbed his hands together as he eyed the open seat next to Prowl. “Good to see you! I’d wandered if ya moved on or stayed. Glad you stayed. How’s your partner?” Blaster slid into the booth without permission.

Prowl blinked. What was he supposed to do with this mech? He was not a threat, but was he an ally? What was he? Should he maintain silence?

“Still as talkative as always.” Blaster shook his helm as laughter bubbled out of him. Steeljaw jumped onto the seat next to Blaster, while Rewind nestled on Blaster’s shoulder. The feline bared its fangs at him, before settling down. “Don’t mind if we sit here?”

 _Don’t mind?_ Prowl blinked slowly and then turned his attention back to Red Alert. The mech was standing at the steel table, pointing at something over the servicing mech’s helm. He cocked his helm. The mechs in the room all conversed. Should he maintain silence, the mech would no doubt find it strange. He would stand out. _Unacceptable._ The mission required stealth, but stealth did not always mean silence. He relaxed his jaw, not having realised how hard he had bitten down.

“Hmm? Really not great a talker.” Blaster narrowed his optics at him, before twisting in his seat and craning his neck over the crowds. “Ah, there’s your partner. I was getting worried that he wasn’t ok.  He’s getting energon at the bar? The service mech didn’t come to you?”

 _Bar._ Prowl assigned the word to the object. _Order fuel at a bar._ He drew his shoulders back and lifted his chin. “There is no service drone. Red Alert…prefers me not to engage with strangers.” Red Alert had said that.

“Really?” Fresh laughter fell from the mech’s lips as his shoulders shook. “Luckily I ain’t a stranger. And nope, no service drone, but they got a bot running around here taking orders. Especially those of the regulars. But the place’s pretty packed this evening so guess he’s not had a chance to work the room.” Blaster smiled at Prowl.

Prowl blinked at him. He did not compute 70% of that conversation, but … _A bot taking orders? There was no …No…_ he balled his fist tightly on the table…no _…commander? Commander._ His optic twitched as a sharp twinge pinched his processor. _Commander. One who gives orders. One follows his orders or is killed. This bot has been disobeying orders by not working the room._ Prowl’s optics sharpened as his armour drew taught to his protoform. The mech was disobedient. “He has not been here.”

“Hmm?” Blaster swung his helm to him. The grin grew as he studied Prowl. “Frag mech, go easy on the mechling. It’s a lot of mechs. You don’t have to be so serious. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” The music stopped at that point and the room erupted to jubilant cries and loud applause.

Blaster clapped with them. “Way to go mech!” His clapping died as he leaned over the table so that he was closer to Prowl and lowered his voice. “Still revved up after the attack?”

Prowl snapped his helm to Blaster, his ridges drawing slightly together. This mech did not care if orders were followed or not? Perhaps this mech was not well either. Yet he enquired after the attack. Of course the mech knew about the attack. He had been of assistance to Red Alert. But what did he mean with ‘revved up’? He could not ask, but how should he respond? Prowl touched his temple lightly with his long fingers.

Blaster arched his thick optic ridges and skewed his helm.

Prowl leaned away from the mech’s presence when his doorwings caught movement from his left. Deliberate movement heading their way. Underneath the table he slid his dagger into his palm.

It was the silver mech from the stage.

“Hey Blaster! Mech it’s good to see ya!” The mech walked with a grace that caught Prowl’s optic. His processor whirred to life, analysing and memorising every detail. There was something _off._    

“Hey Synchro! Been wondering when your troupe would be waving their magical instruments here.” Blaster got up as he grabbed the mech’s outstretched hand and pulled him towards him, briefly touching shoulders. He stepped back and indicated the newcomer to take a seat.

Prowl glanced at the new mech’s hands, noting the retracted claws as he shook Blaster’s hand. _Potential threat._ He sheathed the dagger and without a word he got up and shifted to the opposite side. He would need to get to Red Alert. He glanced at the red and white mech and saw him making his way towards him. Prowl flared his doorwing as he split his focus on the two babbling mechs and his ally. Should he disobey orders and move to Red Alert when there was no confirmed threat, or should he remain?

The other’s voices drew his attention back to them in time to see the visored mech shove Blaster lightly to the side.

“Well, when I saw you had such lovely company, I naturally had to take a break.” The silver mech leaned his hip against the table after flicking his hand at Blaster indicating he should take a seat. He folded his arms loosely across his chest, an easy smile playing on his lips as his gaze roved over Prowl. “So what’s your designation?”

Prowl drew his shoulders back and lowered his helm. There was something _off_ about this mech. _Threat level - medium._ He needed more information. “Prowl.” He answered as he studied the silver mech. There was a fluidity in his stance that had Prowl’s armour prickling. Prowl rolled his shoulders. Was it another… _emotion?_

“Mine’s Synchro. Pleased to meet ya.” The mech purred as he leaned towards Prowl and extended his field with something that Prowl had never encountered before.

“And mine’s Red Alert.” Red Alert sizzled up next to Prowl, holding a cube up at Prowl all the time glaring daggers at Synchro.

The field quickly retracted and Prowl’s shoulders relaxed.

“Here you go, my _love_ , thought we’d try something new. It’s a bit more towards the sour side of life.” He thrust his chin out at Synchro, lips pressed into a thin line. “Excuse us, but this was our table first?”

Synchro snorted as he hid a smile behind his fisted hand. He cleared his vocaliser as he pushed off the table. “Sorry mech, didn’t mean anything by asking a designation.” He winked at Prowl through his opaque visor as he threw himself into the booth next to Blaster. “Now as to this table, we can share as it’s really reserved for the musicians. And as Blaster’s here and seems to know Prowl, no harm in sharing.”

“Easy on ‘em Sync, these guys don’t do crowds well.” Blaster bumped his shoulder lightly against the silver mech’s. “And they’re still on edge.”

“No, definitely not fond of crowds, and as they say, three’s a crowd.” Red Alert drew a deep vent as he stared across the room, but there were no open booths or seats. As much as he hated too, it would be too suspicious to simply leave, and they needed fuel. Curse the moran to the Pit and back that made that stupid rule that one couldn’t take meals up to their rooms.  He inhaled sharply and pulled his shoulder into a half shrug as he trailed a long digit up Prowl’s arm. “I guess six is at least an even number. We can sit here for a few breems and then we’ll leave. That ok with you, Prowl?”

Prowl’s armour tickled where Red Alert had touched him. Was that supposed to mean something? He caught Red Alert’s optic and the mech smiled and raised his ridges. Was Red Alert requesting permission? Or should he agree? He pressed his lips together. Red Alert had stated they should remain a few breems. That settled it.

“Yes.” He nodded as he filed Red Alert’s words and actions away to ask him about later. Red Alert was acting off…again. “Are you well?”

Red Alert rolled his optics and gently pushed Prowl towards the seat. “Yes, I’m fine. Just need to refuel and then we’ll go rest.”

Prowl indicated Red Alert to slide in first. He needed manoeuvrability if the mech opposite – designated Synchro – turned out to be a threat. He would be better able to protect Red Alert if he could quickly get up from the booth. He took his seat once Red Alert had settled.

The table fell into awkward silence as the parties stared at each other.

It was Blaster who broke the silence first as he relaxed back into his seat, ignoring the squawking Rewind as the avian settled on the booth’s faded backrest. “So Red Alert, you feeling better? You look a slagging lot better than the last time I saw you. Poor Prowl here was nearly out of his processor with worry. He nearly attacked me, too.”

“Oh, you were our kind benefactor.” Red Alert purred as he linked his arm through Prowl’s, cuddling close. “Prowl mentioned someone helped us. And good thing he didn’t attack, Prowl is quite capable when it comes to defending us. And, as you did help us, I…uh…apologise for my bad behaviour earlier. We’re…still a bit skittish. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Prowl glanced down at Red Alert clinging to his arm. His field was calm. This must be part of the mission parameters of ‘mates’.  ‘ _We can hold hands. I’ll sit close to you. You can drop your doorwings over my shoulder. Mates do that in public.’_ He glanced up at the silver mech across from them. The mech was still watching him like a cyberhawk. When he saw Prowl glancing at him, he quickly pursed his lips at Prowl.

Prowl drew a deep vent and draped his doorwing over Red Alert. Not only did this fall into acceptable parameters, but it would protect Red Alert from their scrutiny. The silver mech was acting off. There was a 24.4% chance that the mech was ill. There was a 76.6% chance that Prowl was interpreting the situation wrongly. That did not bode well for his mission parameters.

“So from what I can gather, you were hurt. What happened?” Synchro’s face morphed into concern as he leaned back, joining Blaster in lounging on the plush booth seats. His attention stayed focused on Prowl.

Red Alert gently laid his hand on Prowl’s leg underneath the table. “Prowl, drink your fuel or you’ll forget to.” He rested his helm on Prowl’s shoulder, his optics narrowed at Synchro. “We were on our way to the village when we were attacked. There was no reason. They were probably bandits hoping to get something.”

“I thought they were Cons?” Blaster scratched Steeljaw’s audials, the feline purring loudly at the attention.

“Decepticons.” Prowl stated as he picked up his lightly coloured energon. It certainly looked different than the blue energon he had been consuming. He sipped it. The thick liquid sparkled over his glossa. It was an odd sensation, but “This is pleasant.” He took another sip.

Red Alert slowly turned his helm up at him and blinked. “Glad you like it.” His hand squeezed Prowl’s leg, but before Prowl could ask the reason the silver mech spoke.

“What makes you think it was Cons?” Synchro folded his hands on the table in front of him, but glanced at the room to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

Prowl shifted his doorwing as he scanned the room as well. He was still monitoring the movements of all the mechs, but none had made any movements that set his alarms off. The greatest threat level was currently seated across from him and within reach of his ally. “The purple face. We are neutral.”

Red Alert’s fingers dug into Prowl’s leg. Prowl turned towards him. “What are you – ”

“Prowl, let’s not assume.” Red Alert’s voice was clipped and high. His field held the tendrils of fear. “Besides, with the war brewing we don’t talk about things like this. Bandits could easily have branded themselves.”

“We’re neutral too.” Synchro chipped in. “Me and my troupe. We know the dangers. You ain’t the first mechs robbed by them. A lot of the Cons are bandits. Where did this happen though, we’d like to avoid the area.”

“I don’t recall. It was on our way. To be honest we’re heading north.”  Red Alert took his drink and downed most of it with one gulp. He drew in a quivering vent, his field unsteady. “I don’t even remember how we got to this little town.”

“Makes sense. I carried you. You were beat up pretty bad. Your helm still shows some lesions.” Blaster pointed out as he dipped his helm at Red Alert. “We’re heading North too. We should maybe band together. It will be safer to go in numbers.”

“We’re not sure when we’ll be starting on our way.” Red Alert straightened, his frame tense. Prowl drew his doorwing tighter around his smaller companion. It would not do for Red Alert to fear while they were surrounded by so many mechs.

“Of course,” Blaster placed his hand on Steeljaw’s neck as the feline inched closer to him, nudging him to continue scratching him. “I’m sure with your injuries you’ll be staying a few orns. It won’t be wise to continue until your fully recovered. A relapse out there can be deadly.”

“True.” Red Alert quipped as he took another sip of his cube. “Prowl, you should drink.”

Prowl nodded and swallowed a mouthful of his cube, enjoying the electric sparkles on his glossa. He would prefer more of this energon.

“So where are you from?” Synchro leaned back as a service bot dropped a tray of drinks on there table. He grinned at the waiter. “Thanks mech, thought you’d never come.”

“Been busy. That all?” The younger mech asked as he looked at the table. He paused as he encountered Red Alert’s glare and Prowl’s cold stare. “Ok, well, I’ll be going now. Be sure to call if you need anything.”

Red Alert flared his plating as his optics threw daggers at the retreating form of the service bot. He shook his helm. “This place actually _has_ a waiter? This is the crapiest service I’ve ever received.”

Synchro chuckled as he slid his full cube from one servo to the other. The glittering green fluid caught Prowl’s attention. Would it taste the same as his? He watched as Synchro took a sip and placed it back on the table.

Synchro leaned his elbows on the table. “So where you two from?”

“It doesn’t matter where we’re from. What matters is where we’re going.” Red Alert hugged Prowl’s arm and gently pushed into him. His field flared then withdrew sharply. Prowl blinked. Red Alert continued to act oddly and yet the mech had ordered him not to ask anything in front of others. He would need to better define parameters when they were solitary again.

Synchro raised his cube in a salute and dipped his helm. “Very philosophical. One should let the past rest in the past.”

“Precisely” Red Alert said as he tipped the remainder of his cube into his mouth.

“So are you partners?” Synchro asked Prowl as he continued playing with his cube, his gaze visibly skimming over Prowl and his doorwings.

 “We are mates, but we don’t interface.”

Red Alert gagged at his drink and his optics rounded. He clasped a hand over his mouth as his intakes sputtered. He wiped the drops of energon from his mouth.

The table fell into awkward silence. Blaster dropped his optics to the table, rubbing nervously at his olfactory. Synchro suddenly found the glittering green of his drink to be very interesting, but there was no denying the smile he was trying, but failing to suppress.

“I really hate you right now.” Red Alert whispered, tight-lipped as he glared daggers at Prowl. He swung round to their two unwanted guests, cheeks burning crimson as a distinct buzz sounded in his audials. He drew a deep vent, nostrils flaring as he raised his chin. “Excuse my mate. He is socially inept. I’d go as far as to say socially ‘retarded’. And to clarify, our interface life…is none of your business. And Prowl, _dear,_ we will talk about this later. In fact, I think we should leave. Now. I would like to go rest.”

“You could go on and Prowl could stay for a while longer if he’d like.” Synchro flashed his denta at Prowl as he propped his chin up in his hand.

“No fragging way. He’s mine.” Red Alert shoved Prowl towards the end of the seat. “No interfacing because it’s the doc’s orders. So frag off. Prowl, let’s go.”

Prowl raised his doorwings and took Red Alert’s hand as he stood. Red Alert’s field flared against him, brimming with anger. What had he said to invoke that reaction? He raised an optic ridge at Red Alert.

“Let’s go.” As they passed the seated duo, Red Alert glared back at Synchro and bared his denta as he looped his arms around Prowl’s waist.

Synchro watched them go until they slipped out the front doors and into the foyer. He burst into laughter and slapped the table as he bent forward. “Frag, that was…entertaining. And interesting.”

“Awkward if you ask me, mech.” Blaster snickered as he pressed a hand over his optics. “Weirdest couple I’ve ever met. If they are a couple.” He dropped his hand and leaned towards Synchro. “What do’ya think?”

Synchro drew a deep vent and leaned back into the bench, drumming his fingers on the worn tabletop. “I think we need to keep an optic on them.”

“I’m interested in Prowl. Can’t really lay my finger on it, but he’s just…weird. And I’m not sure it’s because he is socially inept. Though he certainly is.”

“Good looking and weird, but oblivious to social cues. He didn’t really react to my flirting at all, though his ‘mate’ certainly did. It’s like his clueless. Not sure if we’re looking for a clueless mech.” His visor darkened. “But I wouldn’t underestimate him. There’s an undercurrent running. He was armed when I approached.”

“Serious?” Blaster cocked his helm as he rocked back. “Didn’t see that.”

Synchro snorted. “It’s a miracle you ain’t dead yet. He sheathed the dagger once I was close, but didn’t make him any less wary.” He rubbed at this chin before grabbing his cube and downing the contents. He smacked his lips and he plonked the empty cube down. “Get one of your bitties to keep an optic on them. I don’t trust him, but I can’t confirm he's our target. We need more info.”

“What about Red Alert? We’re looking for one mech, not two. If they teamed up then we gotta know.” Blaster petted Steeljaw. “You sure you got the right info?”

“I trust my mech.” Synchro got up. “Time to start up the band again. Chat later.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the stories in my mind that never got the time to get onto paper…time is my biggest culprit, but writing is also something I enjoy immensely. So to keep the pot boiling, and thanks to some inspiring fiction lately, here is the start of “Who I am”. To give a bit of background, after writing The Choices We Make, I got some requests to write more stories with Red Alert in them. This is the brain child following those requests. The story has multiple chapters, and the romantic relationships will only start at a later stage, so this isn't a quick fling. ;) The usual Autobot ensemble is present in this story.
> 
> Also note - due to time constraints, I'm not beta'ing and I don't have the time to review the chapters. Hope there aren't any blatant errors. :) 
> 
> I am hoping to continue with Intervention and Youngling’s Run, whom I have by no means abandoned…they are simply uncooperative with me at the moment. ☹


End file.
